Adapt
by agvwskwv
Summary: The seaQuest has been taken over by an eclectic, cunning coalition. As their captivity extends to unprecedented lengths, the crew find themselves adapting to the situation in surprising ways. ELF, but also focusing on other characters in detail.
1. Chapter 1

Title

Adapt

Don't know, don't own, and I'm not making any money off of this story (or any other, for that matter!)

I'm new to this fandom, and not entirely devoted to the canon although I love the series, so please bear with me as I take from the first series and invent at will. The characters should remain recognizable, even as I creatively AU from time to time!

It was week four when Lucas cracked the first smile. It had been four weeks since SeaQuest's hostile takeover by a radical group that defied description. It was a combination of terrorists, activists, anarchists, scientists, and pacifists that never should have been able to come together in a concerted effort to violently subdue and hold hostage the flagship of the UEO… but then, Dr. Kristin Westphalen reflected, Lucas had cracked a smile. A lot of things were becoming stranger and stranger as the hostage situation turned into a longer-and-longer-term arrangement.

Also noting Lucas's smile was Captain Nathan Bridger. But while he had been similarly amazed by the eclectic nature of the band, he had been more surprised by their ability to maintain control of the SeaQuest. The ship had been threatened and taken over on several prior occasions, but there had never been any question of a prolonged situation developing such as the predicament the crew had found themselves in as their internment neared the one-month mark. The UEO should have destroyed the dangerous ship, someone should have rescued them – heck, the crew should have been able to rescue _themselves_ by now. And yet, Bridger had to hand it to the group, the sequence of events had been brilliant. They had moved from a strictly terrorist approach of attacking, locking up and locking down all crew and ship systems, to a peacekeeping effort, ejecting all weaponry and ammunition into the ocean and effectively destroying all significant weapons systems on board, in a matter of hours. The SeaQuest had been reduced to a purely scientific, partially self-defending, very fast ship full of hostages.

One that had been running errands of peace for several weeks now, without Naval orders or clearance.

And now, Nathan shook his head slightly, they had truly fallen down the rabbit hole. Lucas had just smiled at the very terrorist who had stood over him four short weeks ago with a rifle, offering to end the teenager's life if he didn't give up control of the onboard communications systems.

"So, are you going to give it a try?" The terrorist who was chatting amiably with Lucas segued into his request smoothly. Nathan and Kristin watched closely, wondering how far the man, known to them only as "Tollman," would succeed in coaxing Lucas toward becoming an active participant in his own captivity.

&

This was getting ridiculous. Lucas looked up at the taller, broader man who stood beside him, his unexpected smile frozen and fading quickly. How many times would these guys try to get him to fall for the same trick?

"Look," Lucas said in his best I-know-I'm-a-hostage-but-let's-be-serious tone, "I know you claim to have pretty much the same goals as Captain Bridger. But, since you haven't given the SeaQuest back to Captain Bridger, I'm just going to guess that your goals aren't identical. Which means I have no idea what you might do if I helped you get all the non-weapons systems back online."

"I've told you exactly what our goals are," Tollman seemed as pleased with Lucas' brief smile as the Captain and doctor had been troubled by it. "We want to do exactly what Bridger was doing – keep the peace, protect the weak, and study the environment. We just want to cut out the interference of the UEO and all of their corruption. That's why we're not trying to get the weapons back online; isn't that proof enough that we're not going to hurt anyone? We just need to be able to track distress calls more efficiently; that's our priority right now. We need your help. People in trouble need your help."

"People in trouble need _your_ help," Lucas countered. "They need you to give the SeaQuest back to Captain Bridger so that I can get the systems back up and the ship's _real_ crew can continue its mission."

"Good boy," Nathan whispered under his breath. Lucas had been battling extreme guilt over the last week or two as the ship's systems had begun to deteriorate without virus sweeps and other upkeep. The terrorists had almost missed a distress call from a colony of undersea settlers, and their latest persuasive tactic had been implying that Lucas would have been responsible for the settlers' deaths had the SeaQuest not arrived in time to safely evacuate the seven families. Nathan wondered if one of the crew had managed to get enough time alone with Lucas to suggest this new line of logic, or if the teenager had thought it through himself. Either way, it was good to see Lucas regaining a spirit of resistance.

Kristin Westphalen shot Nathan a dirty look when she heard his whisper. She had to concede the point that the terrorists had clearly decided to target Lucas for persuasion before they ever boarded the SeaQuest, but she was having a hard time forgiving the superior officers – the captain, even! – for not stepping in and absolutely refusing to cooperate until their captors stopped focusing their energies on the teen. Instead, Lucas had become the sacrificial lamb, subjected to every non-violent method of persuasion imaginable, from solitary confinement to bribery. Lucas was clearly becoming more confused as the days turned into weeks of this bombardment of conflicting information, but he seemed to keep on finding pieces of reality to cling to in the middle of this unthinkable predicament. Kristin prayed he would be able to hold out.

&

Four weeks earlier

"Nathan, it's right next to the summit," Bill Noyce wheedled. "You wouldn't be put out at all, and your security team wouldn't need to fire any of the weapons. Just see if they're more convenient to carry and handle."

"They have a lethal setting," Nathan Bridger felt distinctly like he was repeating himself. "There is only one use for a lethal setting, and it's not a use that's in keeping with our mission."

"Nathan," Bill straightened up in his chair a little, preparing to pull rank if he couldn't get the captain to waver on this point. "There is a small matter of finances--,"

Bridger didn't get to hear what sort of monetary compensation the military would have received for trial-running the weapons for the private organization. His communication screen had gone blank.

"Lucas," Bridger groaned into his PAL, "I hate to disturb you for this, but I think I'd better finish my conversation with Admiral Noyce."

"Uh, Captain--," Lucas responded, "Something's wrong – those colonists are coming aboard and Tim thinks they accidentally cut off the communications systems. I'm on the bridge; I'll try to get them back up."

"The colonists did what?" Bridger demanded in disbelief. "I'm on my way."

Captain Bridger sighed deeply. If this had happened during any other conversation, it might have been amusing. As it was, Bridger wished he could see it as a reprieve from a frustrating encounter – but the feeling that he would have to face it eventually made him wish he could just get the conversation over with.

Stepping out into the corridor beside his quarters, Nathan was shocked out of his reluctant frame of mind when he heard the ship's alarms go off. He took off at a run toward the bridge.

&

"The alarms – what's going on?" Lucas cried out from where he was working quickly to reset the main communications console.

"I don't know. The PAL system has gone down, too," Miguel Ortiz gestured helplessly toward the doors that were closing to seal off the bridge from possible danger. "Maybe it's a multi-systems malfunction?"

"It is," A stranger's voice interrupted before Lucas could respond.

Every person on the bridge looked up at this new information, but froze in shock and fear when they saw the last of five masked men slip past the descending bridge doors. Each intruder held a heavy-looking rifle, and the five quickly moved into strategic positions around the bridge.

"Which one of you is the captain?"

&

Nathan skidded to a halt when he arrived at the already-sealed bridge's outer doors. Fortunately, the alarms had already quieted, so he could expect the door to the bridge to open at any moment. Since the PAL system did not seem to be working, Bridger wanted to speak directly to Lucas as soon as possible. This was a systems failure unlike anything he'd ever seen – or ever wanted to see again.

Sure enough, the bridge doors lifted, but well before they were fully opened Bridger knew there was more trouble onboard than he'd surmised.

"Captain Bridger?" A masked man dressed entirely in black and toting a nasty-looking gun addressed the stunned captain.

"Yes," Nathan straightened up abruptly and stiffly. "I am the captain. Please leave my crew alone."

"Can do," The man who had addressed Bridger gestured to three of his four companions, who began herding the majority of the crew from the bridge. "I'll only need a skeleton crew while I de-claw the SeaQuest."

"While you what?" Nathan demanded as the armed intruder gestured for him to join Miguel, Tim, Lucas, and Katie on the bridge.

The remaining masked man stood over a terrified Lucas, gun trained on him, as the teenager sat resolutely at the communications station. Lucas was clearly trying not to look up at the threatening figure above him as he worked feverishly at establishing contact with the UEO.

"Step away from the console," the terrorist demanded.

Lucas ignored him, swallowing hard but continuing to type lines of code into the interface. 'If I can just get a distress signal off,' Lucas thought, 'then someone will know to come.'

"Lucas?" Bridger took a moment to assess the situation before determining that the teenager was in the most danger at the moment. "Get up; do what he says. It will be all right."

Lucas' hands froze at the captain's directions and he finally looked up at the man who was threatening him. Bridger winced when the teenager cowered in his seat at the sight of what was clearly a lethal weapon pointed in his direction.

"Let's go," The terrorist nodded toward the hall outside of the bridge.

Lucas was frozen in his seat, clearly unwilling to get any closer to the rifle pointed at his chest. The masked man reached down to take the teenager's arm, lowering the rifle as he did so.

Bridger sensed what was about to happen, but reacted too late to prevent Lucas' action.

Lucas dove at the armed man, attempting to knock him down, and cried out for assistance. "Miguel, help!"

If he hadn't been terrified that both terrorists were about to open fire on his teenage charge, Bridger might have rolled his eyes. Lucas slammed into the much-larger man, but didn't manage to knock him over. The terrorist simply tightened his grip on Lucas' arm, spun him around to face the hall, and started to march the teen after the rest of the crew.

"I need Lucas Wolenczak," the first masked man spoke to Bridger. "He will be able to perform the precise procedures I need done on the ship. Which one is he?"

"I am," both Miguel and Tim spoke in unison before Bridger could respond. They shot each other exasperated looks that mirrored Bridger's own expression of consternation. So much for hiding Lucas' identity.

"Oh, let me guess," The masked man laughed, "she is?"

Katie glowered darkly from where she stood. How were they supposed to keep anyone safe on this boat if this was the best they could do in terms of protecting non-military personnel?

"He's Lucas," Bridger pointed down the hall that Lucas had been escorted into. He decided that telling the truth was their safest option, having already been caught in an obvious lie. "The young man your friend just manhandled out of here."

"That's just perfect," The masked man sounded disturbed by this news. "This should be quite the synergistic working relationship."

"It had better be," Nathan responded edgily. "He's a kid. A civilian kid. Whatever you're doing here, and however it involves him, you had better make his safety your top priority if you don't want this situation to blow up in your face. Literally."

"You might want to give him the same lecture," The masked man matched Bridger's level of agitation for a moment before taking a deep breath and relaxing a bit. "But don't worry too much. I think I'll be able to handle him without having to shoot him. The rest of you, get the systems back online – with the exception of all weapons systems and any long-range communications systems. At the first sign that you are signaling anyone or powering up anything weapons-related, you will be executed."

'Executed,' Nathan's thoughts echoed. That was a disheartening choice of words.

&

"Where's Lucas?" Kristin demanded when Bridger was escorted to the brig later that evening. "You're the last of the crew to be brought here – except for Lucas."

"He's still on the bridge," Nathan replied wearily. It had been a long seven hours since Lucas had been brought back to the bridge to safely eject all nuclear weapons and permanently disable the other major weapons systems. Bridger had found himself the unwilling negotiator between the frightened, uncommunicative teenager and the tense, equally closemouthed terrorists as frustrations continued to build. "I think he'll be all right. They just needed a chance to get used to his way of getting things done."

"What do you mean?" Kristin pressed. "Why do they have him on the bridge? Why wasn't he brought here right away with the rest of the nonessential bridge personnel?"

"They don't want the UEO to destroy the SeaQuest, so they're disarming all systems that pose a serious threat to world security. They're hoping that will allow them to hold the boat for a longer period of time; though for what purpose, I have no idea."

"They need a child to do that for them?" Kristin was clearly distressed at the thought that Lucas had been selected for the task. "Nathan, can he even do that?"

"Yes," Nathan assured Kristin, putting a consoling arm around her shoulders. "He was doing a fine job when I left. It was just a matter of isolating certain systems that normally aren't accessed individually. Once Lucas had them separated, he said it would be simple enough to disable the individual programs semi-permanently."

"Semi-permanently," Kristin repeated, her expression darkening. "So the weapons could be brought back online?"

"Only if Lucas was personally to reprogram them from the ground up, and even then we'd have to be in dry dock for ammunition and supplies," Nathan replied. "As long as we're at sea, we have only a bare minimum of low-grade torpedoes available."

"Do you think it's safe for him to be the only one who can reprogram the weapons systems?" Commander Ford had crossed the large cell to join the captain and doctor in conversation. "I don't like the idea of Lucas being right in the center of this conflict."

"It's probably the safest place for him, actually," Nathan shot Ford a meaningful look as he nodded slightly toward Kristin. He would rather keep a positive attitude outwardly, particularly around the doctor. Besides, he told himself, it was probably true. "They need Lucas now, so they'll be sure to keep him as safe as possible."

"Do we know who 'they' are?" Jonathan Ford looked up to view the single armed guard outside of the enlarged cells in the brig area. The terrorists had rigged extra-large holding areas for the exceptionally large number of hostages they were currently holding.

"Not a clue," Nathan shook his head ruefully. "Let's just hope that their plan works and we're not blown out of the water before we get the chance to find out."

&

"I'm done," Lucas raised his hands from the last console he'd needed to use in isolating and disabling the weapons systems. "Now, I get that you don't want the SeaQuest to get attacked by the military, but what exactly are you going to do with a UEO submarine that doesn't have any weapons?"

"Come on," One of the three masked men who had been overseeing Lucas' work gestured for the teenager to precede him off of the bridge. "There's more to life than destroying things, kid. It's time we had a talk about that."

"I know there's more to life," Lucas stood up from the console cautiously. Although Bridger had eased communication to the point where Lucas felt free to ask questions and air his opinions vocally, he sensed that any sudden movement on his part would be a mistake. "I just didn't think that you did."

"Why would you think that?" The man followed Lucas toward the mag-lev. At his question, Lucas involuntarily stopped walking forward. "Keep moving, kid." The terrorist prodded Lucas in the back with his rifle.

"Are you seriously asking me that question?" Lucas' voice shook slightly as he arched his back away from the rifle and quickly moved forward.

"Point taken," The man followed Lucas onto the mag-lev and set it in motion toward Lucas' quarters. "Will you give me a chance to explain?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You have many choices. More than you know."

&

Two weeks into captivity

"So that's as much as you were able to learn from Lucas?" Bridger grilled Ben. The two sat across from each other on twin bunks in the former quarters that had been reworked into a comfortable, though effectively restrictive, prison cell. "They're trying to convince him to join their ranks?"

"Him and everyone else," Ben Krieg shrugged. "They're just trying extra hard with Lucas; that's why he hasn't been allowed around any of the crew. The scientists are trying to convince him that working with their little 'coalition' would be even better than helping out under your command, sir."

"So they're isolating him. They're trying to brainwash him," Bridger jumped up from his bunk and began to pace. "How did he seem to you?"

"Well," Ben hesitated. "Not too bad, actually."

Bridger stopped pacing and faced Krieg. "What? Two weeks of confinement, no contact to speak of with the crew, no word from the UEO to suggest that we _aren't_ about to be blown out of the water any moment, and Lucas is '_not too bad_'?"

"You probably shouldn't be angry about it, sir," Ben raised an eyebrow. "It's not that he isn't upset by the situation. He's just adapting."

"What's that, pop psychology?" Nathan had to admit that he was overreacting when his first assumption was that Lucas was being blasé about the crew's predicament. Nevertheless, for whatever reason, it was easier for the captain to picture the teenager terrified and desperate for escape from his captors than to even consider the idea that Lucas might come to accept the new crew as legitimate.

"Just psychology," Ben responded. "Morale officers have to take a few courses, and one was on high stress environments. Like hostage situations."

"Stockholm Syndrome?" Bridger asked dryly.

"Yes, but I'd just call this adaptation," Ben explained levelly. "All of the crew might be in danger of something like Stockholm Syndrome, but this is a unique situation because there are two crews onboard. So each member of the crew has to adapt to the conflicting pressures of the two crews – they can't just choose a side and minimize the conflict."

"Oh," Bridger was surprised to hear such a sophisticated analysis of the situation from his normally flippant supplies officer, but then Krieg had always been adept at reading people. It was his interpersonal skills that had sometimes left something to be desired. A new thought occurred to the captain. "If Lucas has all this pressure, both real and perceived, and can't choose the path of least resistance because there are two crews aboard the submarine… will his ambivalence put him in danger, do you think?"

"You mean, since he isn't a victim of Stockholm Syndrome, will the coalition get frustrated?" Ben shook his head. "I hope not."

"Tell me again what you said to him," Bridger asked Ben. "You told him we're all worried about him?"

"Yes, and that he should keep doing whatever he's been doing," Ben assured the captain. "Whatever approach he's taken, it's kept him alive. He also hasn't adopted the coalition uniform just yet, so I'd say he's doing a pretty good job."

"Thank heavens for small miracles," Nathan smiled tightly. "What else?"

"Well, we just had a couple of seconds before he had to leave my station, but…"

As Captain Bridger and Ben Krieg discussed the brief encounter with their friend, they began to draw some small comfort from the knowledge that even the youngest member of the crew had managed to maintain resistance for so long. Surely they would be released soon, and none the worse for wear?

&


	2. Chapter 2

Adapt

Adapt

Thank you everyone for the great encouragement! I am always inspired by notes from readers. My particular thanks to Shudunedus – that was wonderfully detailed feedback! I also took your comments into account when considering certain details in my reconstruction of "the last four weeks." Much appreciated!

Chapter Two:

Two Weeks into Captivity

"It's not exactly a tempting selection," Tim O'Neill tried to see past Ford. "Are they cooking sea urchin for dinner?"

"Tim!" Jonathan Ford rounded on his partner-in-attempted-crime. "I am trying to figure out where we are – not what we are having for dinner."

"It might give us a sense of where we are," Tim retorted. "Not all sea urchins are edible."

"I know that, but I think it might be just a little more helpful if I could get a look at the coordinates at the helm," Jonathan crept a little closer to the pile of supplies that two members of the coalition had retrieved with a launch. After the food generating systems had experienced a brief blackout, the coalition had been spooked into stocking up. Although the systems were back online and there were emergency supplies, it was clear that a more extensive storeroom would be necessary if both crews were to subsist without the food generators for any length of time. Beyond the piles of supplies was the hatch that led to the launch below.

"We don't know if someone is on the launch, Commander," Tim grabbed Jonathan's shoulder. "This isn't worth it."

"It has been _two weeks_," Ford enunciated, pushing Tim's hand roughly from his shoulder. "It's worth it."

"Hey," Tim grabbed at Ford's shoulder even as the commander stepped out of his reach. "Wait! Those aren't urchins over there. I think I know where we are."

Ford stopped reluctantly. "How sure are you?"

"We're off the coast of Southeast Asia, Commander," Tim assured him. "Southeast Asia. That's as specific as you can get with a ship as fast as seaQuest."

"You're sure?" Jonathan sighed deeply. He cast a longing look at the hatch, wishing he could do something – anything – to help the crew toward taking back the submarine. "I probably shouldn't risk it if you're sure."

"Probably not," Tim agreed, the tension he was feeling coming through in his voice. He could tell the commander was close to lashing out against the feeling of helplessness that had long since enveloped the senior officers onboard. O'Neill just hoped he could talk Ford down before he got himself killed. "And yes, I'm sure. That's durian fruit. It's always possible they managed to import some, but that much? We have to be off of Southeast Asia."

"Now we just have to get back to our cell, break back in, and then get you to the communications console the next time Lucas is on the bridge during our shift," Ford calculated. "This may work!"

"Do you think Lucas will be able to get us long-range communications for this?" Tim was surprised to hear this part of the plan. The commander had kept him apprised of the steps as they went, but this was the first O'Neill had heard of what they'd actually be doing with the information, should they actually able to find out seaQuest's position.

"He has to," Ford was determined. "He will."

&

"Miguel!" Lucas hissed. He had recently begun spending a couple of hours on the bridge every afternoon, and today Ortiz was busily trying to raise a forward sensor that had gone down the previous night.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Lucas to watch the ship's systems deteriorate as the consoles seemed to slowly darken under his watchful eyes. As each subsystem blinked out under the influence of the too-potent virus that the coalition had released into the ship's system just before boarding the seaQuest, Lucas couldn't help but call to mind the steps he could take to bring the subsystem back online. The steps he could take to halt the virus entirely. He tried to push it out of his mind; this was exactly what Tollman wanted him to be thinking about during his "bridge time." Instead, Lucas was determined to find out how the rest of the crew was holding up. "Miguel!"

"Lucas," Ortiz looked up surreptitiously before pretending to focus on the useless interface before him. "Are you OK? And do you have any idea where we are – or what we're doing?"

"We're near Vietnam, getting supplies," Lucas pointed at a blinking light. "Don't touch that; it's shorted out and might take the rest of the sensors down if you try to fix it without going in manually."

"Lucas," Miguel muttered, "don't tell me things about the ship's systems." Ortiz looked up at Lucas, losing all pretense of not communicating with the teenager. He saw one of the masked men begin to come forward to separate him from Lucas, but Miguel had been thinking a lot during his confinement and knew now might be his only opportunity to advise his friend. "Don't tell anyone anything. The faster seaQuest goes down, the faster we'll get out."

Lucas looked startled. "Should I-,"

"Don't do _anything_," Miguel looked deeply into Lucas' eyes, even as his friend took a step back when the approaching terrorist placed himself bodily between the two.

The bridge was silent once more, until a loud popping sound alerted everyone to yet one more electrical short in the tactical console.

Lucas winced, but forced himself not to look up as his captain's pride and joy slowly disintegrated. He hoped Miguel knew what he was talking about.

&

"What I simply do not understand," Kristin ranted to Bridger as they ate dinner in their shared shift, "is how they expect to do anything with the ship in this condition. Honestly, I don't believe we should be diving to anything near our maximum depth; we're probably at risk of getting lost in the Atlantic!"

"I highly doubt that," Bridger responded as he cautiously sampled the soup in front of him. "Have you noticed the food selection?"

"The Pacific, then!" Kristin snapped, irritated by the unnecessary correction. "Sooner or later they'll have to realize that this is a losing battle. None of our computer specialists can counteract the virus they've used on seaQuest without shutting down the entire system. It simply can't be done!"

Bridger waited, hoping that Dr. Westphalen had blown off the majority of her steam. He had had the same thoughts, but had already managed to channel them into more productive directions: Nathan had begun to hope that the mechanics' inability to fix the ship and Lucas' unwillingness to help (Bridger still wasn't convinced the young genius could counteract the computer virus in these late stages, but he wasn't willing to see that theory tested) would result in the submarine being crippled enough that the coalition would be forced to release the boat.

"Don't say it," Kristin watched Bridger's expression as he reflected on this thought. "Don't you dare say that you're counting on Lucas refusing to fix the computers."

"What?" Nathan wasn't terribly surprised to hear that Kristin had come to the same conclusion, but he was surprised that she seemed so hostile about the idea. "You don't think that's our best chance at release?"

"I-," Westphalen faltered. "Nathan, surely there is some way we can take Lucas out of the equation."

"Sure there is," Bridger readily agreed. "In fact, that's already been done; none of us have any contact with him except for brief exchanges on the bridge. I have no control or influence over how he chooses to respond to our situation."

"That's not what I meant-,"

"Doctor," Ben Krieg had been eating in silence until he heard Bridger's provocative comment to Westphalen. "We can't do anything but wait right now. It's killing all of us to watch seaQuest fall apart, especially knowing that even if we could stop it we wouldn't. We're all nervous that someone will get trigger happy with Lucas if the situation gets much worse, and I know I'm not only worried that Lucas might not be able to fix the ship – I'm also worried that he might actually be able to get rid of the virus and give these guys a working submarine."

"We could take seaQuest back," Kristin's tone became dangerously dark as she realized the extent to which their situation was a catch-22. "We could, you know. Only a few people would be killed, and perhaps even that could be avoided."

"Not as long as we're separated from Ford, Katie, Tim, Miguel, and Lucas," Bridger responded automatically. They had been having this conversation for more than a week now. "The ensigns are well-trained, but they simply are not experienced."

"So we'll call their bluff, then?" Ben looked from Bridger to Dr. Westphalen, awaiting their assent. "Neither of you will try anything until we see how the virus plays out?"

"Fine," Kristin sighed deeply.

"We don't have much choice," Nathan gestured around at the young, frightened crew members finishing their dinner. A masked man appeared in the doorway and, on cue, they all began clearing their trays.

As soon as he considered the altercation between the captain and doctor resolved, Ben's mind began to race again. He had been hard at work trying to figure out how to communicate with Ford, O'Neill, Ortiz, and Hitchcock. That was clearly the first step toward an organized attempt to take back seaQuest. Moreover, it was obvious that the coalition firmly believed in Lucas' ability to salvage the ship's systems. Ben wondered how he could use that information to help set up communication between himself and the others.

&

"Are you clear?" Ford asked Tim as they prepared for their shared shift on the bridge retrieving and translating transmissions that had been trapped by the faulty circuits of the communications console.

"Yes," O'Neill assured the commander. "We're going to try to contact Noyce directly on his private line and tell him where we are."

"Let me handle Lucas, OK?" Jonathan looked intently at his cellmate. "You'll have your hands full with the communications console, and I don't want anyone to become suspicious."

Tim hesitated. Ford had become increasingly aggressive as the situation had spun further and further out of control. It didn't help that they had been isolated in their quarters for nearly the entire two weeks since the submarine had been taken over. Tim assumed that other arrangements had been made for most of the crew, for expediency's sake, but he and Jonathan had received plates of nondescript food in their quarters since the initial lockdown had begun. For whatever reason, they were clearly considered a greater threat to the coalition than most members of the crew. As such they had only been allowed on the bridge for very specific assignments.

"He might listen to me," Tim gently suggested. "He's probably scared, and I am pretty good friends with him."

"He'll listen to me," Ford dismissed Tim without hesitating. "Just focus on getting the message programmed by the time I get Lucas over to your console to send it out."

"OK," Tim conceded. He had found himself completely unable to offer any suggestions to the commander since they had seen the supplies that gave them the clue to the boat's whereabouts. Some deep, survivalist side of Ford had taken over and Tim could neither relate nor respond adequately.

He just hoped it wouldn't get them or anyone else killed.

&

"Got it?" Redding had been Tim's constant escort whenever he was allowed outside of his shared cell.

"Yes," Tim gulped. It was thirty minutes since his conversation with Ford. He was on the bridge, sitting at his malfunctioning communications console, and Lucas was despondently leaning against the captain's chair a few short yards away. Everything was just as expected, except for one detail.

Ford had not been allowed to come to the bridge.

Redding stalked over to where Tollman and two other masked men were sitting. Tim noticed that they spoke in low tones and seemed much tenser than they had been during the first few days after they'd taken over seaQuest. Back then, Tim reflected, they had been downright relaxed and cheerful. They had clearly expected much less resistance from the crew when they transitioned from their extreme terrorist activity into the more peaceful mode of jailers/explorers. As far as Tim knew, nobody had accepted their offers of comradeship if crew members chose to join the coalition. However, Redding had spoken to him often enough on the subject that Tim felt certain that there was not a person aboard the submarine who did not know that the offer stood.

It was almost tempting, except for the obvious fact that the facilities were stolen. Tim had to admit that many of the terrorists' objections to UEO oversight had merit – it had always cramped the captain's style, and it certainly interfered with their missions on a regular basis. However, as Tim had explained to Redding, the members of the coalition really needed to get their own submarine. Then they could make lucrative offers to the crewmembers of the seaQuest and might actually have a chance at wooing them.

That suggestion had not gone over particularly well.

Tim was interrupted from his musings when he realized that Lucas was watching him closely from where he stood by the captain's chair.

"Lucas," Tim whispered so quietly that he was almost mouthing the name.

The teenager was instantly alert; Lucas had not seen Tim in days and had begun to worry about him and Ford. Tollman had explained that certain members of the crew would potentially be troublesome if they were in contact with their friends. As far as Lucas could tell, that included O'Neill, Ford, Hitchcock, and himself.

Lucas didn't look up at the terrorists as he made his way over to Tim. He knew that any guilty gesture such as looking to Tollman for permission or approval would call immediate attention to his movements.

"Yeah, Tim?" Lucas had stopped a couple of feet away, not facing his friend directly. Plausible deniability, Lucas chanted in his head as he planned a response to Tollman's inevitable questions when he noticed the teenager's movement across the bridge.

"I know where we're located," Tim cut right to the heart of the matter. "Ford wants us to get a message to Admiral Noyce. It's all set; can you send it?"

"No," Lucas shook his head slightly. "Miguel said not to do anything. Besides, that's long-range communication; the coalition would really be angry if they found out that we did that."

"Lucas, we figured out where we are; I think we should at least take advantage of that information," Tim was shocked to hear that Ortiz's advice held more sway with Lucas than Ford's plan.

"I know where we are, Tim," Lucas spared a quick glance at the communications officer. "I just don't think the UEO could do anything with that information, and getting it to them before we have a plan could create problems."

"What if they _could_ do something? Shouldn't we try?" Tim was even more stunned to hear that Lucas knew where the submarine was positioned. He and Ford had gone to so much trouble – risked so much – to get that information. What else did Lucas know about their situation?

"I don't know," Lucas was beginning to sound distressed. "Miguel told me not to do anything that might help the systems."

"Why did he tell you that?" Tim was even more confused.

"Kid?" Both Lucas and Tim jumped when Tollman's deep voice boomed across the bridge. "You going to help out there, or are you just checking out the view?"

"I, uh," Lucas blinked a couple of times. "I have to go to the bathroom."

Tim wanted to react to Lucas' obvious lie, but decided not to make it any harder on the teen than it clearly already was.

"Fine," Tollman sounded amused. "Let's go."

"Um," Lucas seemed startled. "OK."

Tim helplessly watched Tollman usher Lucas off of the bridge and back toward his quarters. What was he going to tell Commander Ford?

&


	3. Chapter 3

Adapt

Adapt

Thank you so much for the encouraging reviews! I love the very detailed feedback, but I also just love to hear your reactions to chapters – I am a storyteller more than a writer, so the interaction with readers is half the fun for me. I am making an effort to keep the story from jumping around too much; thanks for the feedback on that, CoraRodney! Though my characters are confused by some developments (for obvious reasons), I sincerely hope I'm not confusing you all as readers as well! The story is indeed picking up a bit now, TheRealAbbey, and I'm very glad you're ready for more, firebunee… Enjoy!

Chapter Three:

"O'Neill," Commander Ford pounced on his cellmate when Tim was escorted back to their joint quarters. "The message?"

"I couldn't, sir. I'm sorry." Tim rushed over the words, anxious to get past Ford's reaction. "Lucas said that Miguel told him not to do anything that might restore ship systems, and-,"

"What?" Jonathan seemed to be trying to understand what O'Neill had just told him. "Lucas was there, on the bridge, and you didn't get a chance to send the message?"

"Lucas refused to try," Tim felt guilty for putting it in those terms, but he suspected that Lucas could have managed to send the message if he'd wanted to help. "Apparently Miguel has a different sense of our situation, because he told Lucas-,"

"Ortiz told Lucas not to help us?" Ford groaned loudly, unable to verbalize the entirety of his frustration. "Why would he do that?"

"I just don't know," Tim lapsed into silence, demoralized by the constant interrupting and the confusing circumstances.

"We need to convince Lucas to help us, regardless of what Ortiz is planning," Ford mused aloud. "He might not even be planning anything; maybe Lucas misunderstood him. Why wouldn't he want Lucas to help us send a distress signal?"

Jonathan paced agitatedly up and down the quarters he shared with Tim, lost in deep and troubled thoughts.

&

"Are you set?" Tollman called into Lucas' quarters. "I'd like you to spend another hour on the bridge before we head down to Medbay."

Lucas sighed deeply. He had relieved himself, though he honestly hadn't needed to, and then begun pacing up and down his room. Darwin was in the aquatube, watching the teen, and Lucas wanted desperately to talk to his friend. However, he had no way of knowing if the terrorists knew about the vocorder – and he wasn't about to risk that technology being stolen.

"I'll be right out," Lucas ran a hand through his hair in agitation. What was he supposed to do? Would a message to the UEO be helpful? Was Miguel right that Lucas should let all the systems go down? What would the captain advise? Lucas wished he could just hold a meeting with all the senior officers of seaQuest. He was well aware that he had the most mobility on the submarine and the best potential to change the crew's situation – but Lucas simply couldn't decide how he should use it.

It didn't help that he was dogged by Tollman almost every minute of every day.

"Kid, let's go," Tollman's tone shifted from conversational to commanding.

Lucas turned resignedly to leave his quarters but, before he could move toward the door, the conduits above his head erupted in a shower of sparks and dangerous electrical snapping.

"Whoa!" Lucas involuntarily cried out, jumping back from the elaborate stereo system he'd wired into his room several months earlier. He was dismayed to see that the newly exposed wiring was between him and the door.

Tollman threw the door open and immediately recognized the danger his charge was in. "Where's the main wiring to this thing, Wolenczak?" The terrorist held up a hand, signaling for the teen to stay back as he examined the electrical hazard.

"Um," Lucas tried to fight back the advice Miguel had given him – he couldn't just stand here and do nothing when both his life and Tollman's might be in danger from the clearly overloaded circuits of his stereo system. Could he? 'Don't do _anything_,' Miguel had said. Lucas froze, unable to reach a decision.

As the wires overheated and began to weaken, a heavy cable above the stereo system broke free, swinging wildly as its weight ripped some of Lucas' storage units from the ceiling of his quarters. Some of Lucas' clothing fell to the floor, almost immediately catching fire as exposed electrical wires dragged over it.

"Look out!" Tollman leapt past the electrical fire as it surged up around Lucas. He quickly grabbed the shocked teenager and pulled him past the disaster area to safety.

Lucas breathed heavily, not thinking about the fact that he was clinging to his captor for dear life. They stood in the doorway of Lucas' quarters like that for a few moments, catching their breath and each taking comfort in the fact of the other's physical well-being.

"You're OK?" Tollman finally pushed Lucas back from himself so he could look over the young man for injuries.

"Yeah," Lucas looked back into his room. "But there goes my stereo."

"I guess so," Tollman barked out a short laugh. "I don't suppose that little display has convinced you to help me out here?"

Lucas couldn't describe the mixture of guilt, gratitude, and anger that surged up in him at that statement.

"I didn't think so," Tollman replied, correctly interpreting Lucas' facial expression, "but you should think about it – preferably before the next malfunction kills someone."

Lucas channeled his still-high level of adrenaline into the glare he directed at the terrorist.

"Just think about it," Tollman repeated, meeting Lucas' glare with an even expression. "It might not be you in harm's way when the next system goes haywire."

&

"Tollman, what's that for?" Redding and Perkins had been rooming with three of the hostage scientists since taking over seaQuest, and neither was pleased to see Tollman enter their already-cramped quarters with an air mattress.

"Wolenczak is moving in," Tollman replied brusquely. "His room has all sorts of electrical equipment that's falling apart because of that virus; he can't stay there."

Tollman had left Lucas in Medbay with the scientists who were hard at work analyzing soil samples from an agricultural colony that had requested assistance in isolating the cause of an entire crop of tainted potatoes. The terrorist had found bedding and a recreational air mattress that would double as a bed for the teen in the absence of anything more appropriate. All the cots had long since been claimed.

"He's supposed to be in solitary confinement," Redding argued. "If he starts hanging out with our scientists, who knows how long it will take us to get the kid motivated to fix the systems."

"Yeah," Perkins jumped in. "Did you hear that we almost missed the distress call today? O'Neill had to dig out the transmission, manually adjust all sorts of crap, and then translate the message – it's a miracle he even found it in that soup of underwater static. The sensors that isolate frequencies went down last night."

"That's Ortiz's specialty," Tollman recalled. "Get him on the bridge and see if he can cobble something together. But what do you want me to do? We have no room to isolate the kid."

"Lives depend on him fixing this submarine," Redding stated firmly. "We'll find a place. How torn up is his stuff? Maybe his room is still the best place for him."

"If you want him to get electrocuted, then sure," Tollman replied with a helpless shrug. "It's in really bad shape. I have to find some other place for him until we can get his room cleared out. When I left it there was stuff burning – I'm assuming we'll be cleaning up after some form of fire suppressing system."

"If it's still working," Perkins smiled ruefully. "Don't be surprised if his room is pretty charred."

"OK, here's an idea," Redding raised his hands as if to apologize in advance for his comment. "What if we didn't give him a room, but each took turns rubbing his nose in the fact that we almost missed this potato distress call?"

"You think he'll be terribly disturbed about the bad potatoes?" Perkins asked skeptically.

"Two people died before they realized that the problem was the potato crop," Redding nodded at Tollman's shocked expression. "They're really toxic; we're going to have our hands full here."

"That might help, from what I've seen of Wolenczak," Tollman considered. "He's awfully concerned about the others onboard, too."

"Well, forget that – we're trying to isolate him for a reason. We can't play off of his concern for the others," Redding responded. "But I was thinking that a combination of guilt and keeping him awake might do the trick."

The three men fell silent.

"Sleep deprivation is illegal," Perkins ventured cautiously. "I don't think the others would go for this, especially Simmons."

"Let me talk to Simmons," Tollman sighed. "He may be in charge, but he's made it clear that we're all to pull our own weight and make suggestions around here. I don't really like the idea, but you should have seen the kid's room. If that's any indication of what's going to happen to the ship over the next couple of weeks, then I think we may have to step up our persuasion a bit."

"Thanks, Tollman," Redding answered quietly. "I was hoping you wouldn't be too upset if I suggested that."

"Just don't tell any of the scientists," Tollman warned Redding. "They would have a fit."

"They're not helping us keep this place under control; who cares?" Redding responded.

"We're a coalition, guys," Perkins jumped in quickly. "Don't start dividing people up now. The pacifists have made the most concessions, but the scientists are starting to feel the strain now that systems are shutting down. Don't alienate the others now that we have what we've been hoping for."

"Hoping for," Tollman laughed aloud. "This isn't exactly what I'd pictured. But you're right – I guess I have been losing sight of what we're doing here."

Perkins was relieved to see the tension break in the room. He'd joined the coalition as a member of the anti-military guerrilla segment of the coalition, but only because he firmly believed in the temperance of force with reason and compassion. After a few traumatic experiences with the military, Perkins had found the idea of a balanced coalition comprising very different groups, with similar goals but complementary methods, highly appealing. The last thing he wanted to see was an imbalance developing in favor of violence or force.

&

"Wow, is this bacterial?" Lucas bent over the microscope that Kristin had offered him in Medbay. A quick examination of the soil samples had revealed obvious anomalies, and Kristin had been delighted when Tollman unceremoniously deposited Lucas in Medbay shortly after the scientists had discovered the first signs of the problem.

"We believe so, Lucas," Kristin reached over to adjust the magnification on the microscope. "Now, take another look, and you should see what is going on at the sub-cellular level as well."

"It almost looks like a virus!" Lucas was fascinated. "Could it be both a bacterium and a virus?"

"Not likely," Kristin responded, "but it is unusual to have both occurring independently in the same soil sample."

Another scientist, a member of the coalition, joined the two at the microscope. He smiled at Lucas, ignoring Kristin's hostile expression. "Are you interested in biology?"

"Um," Lucas looked from Kristin to the man dressed in coalition black. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Kristin was delighted when the scientist drew back, stung by Lucas' sarcastic and off-putting remark. Dr. Westphalen had mixed feelings about working alongside the terrorists to solve the problem for the agricultural community, but she had ultimately deemed it impossible to refuse. Lives were at stake, and if any good were to come from the hostage situation, it might as well be good that resulted in scientific progress. Nevertheless, she had made it perfectly clear that she would not work with a member of the coalition unless it was absolutely vital to saving a life. As a doctor, Kristin could not bear to let anyone die; but as a member of the seaQuest's crew, she could not bear to see her fellow scientists join or assist the coalition.

The coalition scientists had proven an interesting group. Kristin could only describe them as eager and idealistic – not so very different from most of the young scientists she worked with on the seaQuest. However, there was something else in their demeanors that spoke to a larger, non-scientific consciousness. These were scientists with a purpose, Kristin decided, whereas she was accustomed to working with scientists who were motivated by a simple fascination with science and knowledge. SeaQuest scientists invariably found their knowledge to be gainful over time and in application, but Kristin got the sense that members of the coalition looked for the practical usefulness of their pursuits before they'd even begun to examine the world around them. It was just one more way of being close-minded in a world of infinite possibility.

Kristin definitely did not want the coalition to influence Lucas' approach to science.

Lucas was eagerly soaking up the feeling of near-normalcy he had from being back in Medbay with Dr. Westphalen. After being kept away from the crew for two weeks, he almost could not begin to ask the doctor all the questions that he had.

"So, uh," Lucas watched the terrorist as he moved away from him and Kristin, "how is everyone doing? Is the captain OK? Have you seen Commander Hitchcock?" Lucas had managed to exchange a few words with every member of the senior staff during the last week except for Katie Hitchcock. He had yet to see her since the first appearance of the coalition on seaQuest.

"Everyone's fine, Lucas," Dr. Westphalen immediately soothed the teenager. "I haven't seen Commander Hitchcock, but I do want you to do me a favor. Please don't worry about a thing, OK?"

"What?" Lucas stared at the maternal doctor in disbelief. "Don't _worry_? I couldn't do that – you know I can't do that."

"Well," Kristin tried to rephrase her advice, "what I mean is, don't worry too much. Try not to let these terrorists use you, use your anxieties, or make you feel like you're the only one who can help seaQuest. The captain has a plan," Kristin quickly justified the exaggeration in her mind; his plan was currently to wait and see what happened. "Just lie low, Lucas, and do whatever the terrorists want you to do. Don't put yourself in any unnecessary danger."

"But what about-," Lucas was interrupted when Tollman reentered the Medbay.

"Kid," Tollman seemed unusually hesitant as he stepped intentionally between Lucas and the doctor. "Let's go get something to eat and then go to the bridge, OK?"

Lucas was surprised by the change in plans; he hadn't expected food for another hour at least. He reflexively looked to Dr. Westphalen for permission to leave his studies in Medbay. Kristin gave him an encouraging nod, waving Lucas toward the terrorist.

Lucas took a deep breath and preceded Tollman into the hall. As the terrorist reholstered the gun he'd been holding, Lucas realized with a start that he had almost begun to ignore the small handgun that Tollman and the other terrorists, scientists and pacifists alike, wore as part of their uniform. The coalition had switched from their highly intimidating rifles to handguns a few days after taking control of seaQuest. In his idler moments, Lucas wondered where all the rifles were stashed. Ironically, however, Lucas had been even more intimidated at first by the handgun that Tollman carried than he had been by the rifle. Lucas suspected that was because there was never any question where the rifle was, and where it was directed, whereas on more than one occasion Lucas had looked up to find that Tollman's handgun was pointed toward him threateningly, when he had thought that they were discussing something. Somehow 'discussion' did not seem like the right word to describe a conversation that involved a handgun.

"Did you hear about the distress call?" Tollman was slightly dismayed to have found Lucas in conversation with Westphalen; hopefully it would not undo any of the work they had been doing to isolate the teenager from his friends. At any rate, Tollman figured it would not hurt to jump right into the more aggressive approach that Simmons had agreed to.

"I just saw the soil samples," Lucas pointed out. "So, yeah, I did."

"Did you hear what O'Neill went through trying to get the distress call isolated and decoded?" Tollman followed up. Hopefully this would work.

&


	4. Chapter 4

Adapt

Adapt

Thank you all for your kind reviews and correspondence! I think that the ending may seem a little smoother in this chapter, and I hope the quickening pace is evident. Thank you for expressing your enthusiasm, too! I am suffering from mild pneumonia at the moment, but your reviews remind me that I have readers; that's always good motivation!

Enjoy!

Chapter Four:

"So that's what's going on," Admiral Noyce rested his chin in his right hand, wearily leaning forward at his desk. "At least we know that they're all right."

"How would you like us to proceed?" General Harding questioned. "We have honored your request not to destroy the seaQuest as long as it poses no threat to world security. However, if we receive any evidence to the effect that Wolenczak has defected, then we'll have to assume that the ship will not long be without significant firepower."

"The evidence retrieved from the programming in the ejected ammunition merely _suggested_ that Wolenczak disabled the systems," Noyce protested. "That does not mean that he is the only one able to re-arm the nuclear weapons, and I don't think the lives of everyone aboard the submarine should depend on whether or not a civilian teenager is bullied into helping these terrorists."

"Excuse me, sir," Harding shook his head. "I'm afraid that we have confirmed that he is the only one able to re-arm the weapons. He had to program original strings of code in order to disable them in the way that our readings suggest they were taken offline. Since receipt of this information, a number of our monitoring personnel have been familiarized with this particular civilian's codes and approaches to programming. I'm afraid that if he makes any attempt whatsoever to bring seaQuest back online, we will be forced to assume that he has defected."

"He can't defect," Noyce retorted in disbelief. "He's not part of the navy!"

"He's a citizen under UEO jurisdiction," Harding's expression hardened. "If he were to help the terrorists in any way, he would be considered a traitor."

"Not under duress-," Noyce sputtered. "Not if he was being threatened, if the whole crew was threatened, or if there was torture involved…"

"I'm simply thinking of world security, sir." Harding shrugged. "With all due respect, if you want to see the seaQuest recovered with any semblance of an intact crew, then you'd better hope that Wolenczak doesn't so much as cook dinner with the submarine's systems."

"Don't get trigger happy," Noyce growled in response, knowing that further argument at the moment would be fruitless. "I want to see the orders before you do anything at all to damage seaQuest."

&

"I've got you now," Commander Katie Hitchcock muttered to herself. She had finally isolated the core systems of the seaQuest through the panel off of her quarters. Since the myriad systems all ran throughout the ship seemingly at random, unmarked except for the charts that had been removed immediately after the submarine's seizure, Katie had not been at all certain that she'd be able to access, let alone identify, any circuits of use. However, gazing at the array of wires before her, Hitchcock realized that she had hit the jackpot. There was a major juncture only a few feet into the deep bulkhead.

"Now I just need a plan." Katie wrapped a strand of electrical tape around the key point of access to the systems and then carefully crawled out of the massive tangle of wires toward the quarters that she'd been isolated in for more than two weeks now. It had been slow going, wracking her memory for the configurations she'd memorized so long ago, meticulously identifying each branch of wiring. But when she'd found the core systems, it had been obvious: nobody forgot the command configuration of the vital systems where they intersected. Katie could hardly believe her luck: finding one of the eighteen points of intersection within three yards of her quarters was almost miraculous.

Thank heavens nobody checked on her activity except to bring meals to her quarters.

"There's a lot of breakdown going on in the ship's systems," Katie mused aloud, considering the effects of the virus that she'd seen inside the bulkhead and the clearly overloaded too-bright circuits crisscrossing through the boat. "If I can at least slow it down, that will buy us all some more time. Maybe Lucas will be able to fix the computers, or maybe we'll just plain get the ship back under control during the time I can buy.

"Talking to myself can't be a good sign." Katie shook her head with a small smile to herself. She lay down on her bunk, knowing that dinner would be arriving soon. She had a lot to plan before her long stretch of uninterrupted working between dinner and breakfast.

&

"Yeah, OK, whatever," Lucas looked up at Tollman rebelliously. "Of all the crappy ways you've tried to convince me to betray my friends, this one really takes the cake."

"Wolenczak," Tollman replied testily, annoyed by Lucas' newfound confidence. Dr. Westphalen had most certainly undone a lot of the good work they'd done by isolating the teenager. Tollman had hoped to just hammer his point home in abstracts, knowing that it would be cruel to explicitly blame the computer genius for the two colonists' deaths… but now it seemed inevitable. "Two people died. If you hadn't been so caught up in your personal loyalty issues, two people would still be alive. Does that mean anything at all to you? Anything?" Tollman took one provocative step toward the teen, and Lucas froze. Tollman noted Lucas' defensive body language and suddenly became even angrier. "You know what? Just go stand by the communications console."

Lucas drew back a little when Tollman aggressively yanked his handgun out of its holster and gestured viciously toward the interface.

"There are no weapons," Tollman addressed Lucas tauntingly, as if he were a small child. "There isn't anything that would hurt anyone. Just cries for help. Cries from people who will die if we don't respond to their messages. Think about that. And if you feel like growing up, then maybe you can actually do something to help."

Lucas' eyes never left the threatening weapon as he hurried over to the communications console and stiffly stood beside it. This outburst was the first sign of rising temper in his captor since seaQuest had been taken over by the coalition. Lucas had sensed the increasing tension onboard for days now so he wasn't entirely surprised to find it directed at himself, but it was still a shock to see it come out so abruptly in Tollman. Lucas had thought that he'd accurately identified his boundaries as a hostage. Clearly the situation was less stable and shifting more quickly than he had realized.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Tollman snapped at the teenager. Lucas did not respond, though all three of the terrorists on the bridge saw his shoulders twitch involuntarily at Tollman's harsh tone. "I guess so, huh?" Tollman sat down next to the other two members of the coalition who were monitoring the bridge's systems. He almost regretted his approach, knowing that under any other circumstances he'd have been appalled to see anyone – child or adult – treated in the way he was treating Wolenczak. However, Tollman quickly justified, this was a desperate situation. If lives were at stake, then a few egos might need to be bruised.

Three hours later, Tollman had to remind himself of that same thought when Parker relieved him on the bridge and Lucas had not moved at all in that time.

&

Tollman reentered the bridge at eleven hundred hours the next morning. Feeling refreshed by his long break, he was in a better frame of mind and had brought Lucas a reconciliatory cup of coffee.

The moment Tollman entered the bridge, he knew there was a problem.

"Kid," Tollman called over to Lucas. The teenager was in exactly the same position he'd been in when Tollman had left, except he'd stepped closer to the interface to lean heavily against the side of the console. "Coffee?"

Lucas did not respond.

"Redding?" Tollman turned to the terrorist who had relieved Parker early in the morning. "Has he moved at all?"

"No," Redding answered with a hint of admiration in his tone. "He's been right there since I got here."

"Great," Tollman muttered anxiously. He set down the mugs of coffee quickly, heading over to where Lucas was studiously ignoring everything around him. "Lucas, let's go. Bathroom break."

Lucas looked up at the terrorist despondently, then down to the taller man's holstered handgun.

"I don't need to use that; come on." Tollman gestured in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner toward the hall.

Lucas did not move.

Tollman hesitated. It was clear what Lucas wanted him to do, but Tollman wasn't ready to admit defeat just yet. "Lucas, you need to eat something, and I'm sure you need to change or shower or something."

At the mention of showering, Lucas' expression changed from blank to accusing. 'That's right,' Tollman mentally chided himself. 'His quarters. I'll have to take him somewhere else to shower and find some clean clothing.'

"Kid not happy with the entertainment?" Redding stretched as he stood up from the early morning poker game he'd been playing with the others on the bridge. "Need a hand with him?"

Tollman shot him a look. "No. He was just coming with me, right Wolenczak?"

"Doesn't look that way to me," Redding commented when Lucas didn't move. "Let me try." Redding pulled out his gun and gestured for Lucas to go into the hall. "Move it, kid."

Lucas looked over at Redding expressionlessly and walked off of the bridge. Tollman hurried to follow the teen, shooting Redding a very hostile glare.

"Thanks a lot, Red," Tollman hissed as he passed the terrorist. "Now he's going to refuse to do anything unless I literally put a gun to his head. This is just great."

"That's why you have a gun," Redding replied with a shrug. "Who cares?"

&

Miguel was rudely awakened at sixteen hundred hours. Since the terrorists had taken over the seaQuest, he has gradually switched his waking and sleeping hours to synch with the times that the coalition seemed most often to need him on the bridge. Ortiz was a little concerned by this early wake-up call for his typically late-night shift, but based on the way things had been shutting down all over the bridge, he assumed it had to do with the general deterioration of the sensors.

As it turned out, he was half right.

"Ortiz," Parker stuck his head into Miguel's quarters, raising the lights up to daylight levels. "We need you _now_. Just get dressed and take another look at the forward sensors. You can go back to bed after we figure out what's going on."

"Fine," Miguel yawned loudly. "As long as I can get back to bed soon."

Parker escorted the sensors technician to the bridge, silently thanking Simmons for what might have been the hundredth time for assigning him to the mellow Cuban officer when the terrorist leader had paired specific members of the coalition with specific high-risk seaQuest officers. Parker had yet to see why Ortiz was completely isolated from his crewmates; the officer seemed to take his captivity in stride after only a few strained days of adjustment. Not that anyone had made any headway on convincing Ortiz to join the coalition, Parker had to admit. Miguel might be laid back, but he was also intensely loyal.

As they arrived on the bridge, Parker finished explaining exactly why he'd roused Ortiz. "So the sensors seem to be working better, just since last night."

"Really?" Miguel tried to hide his disappointment, even as he puzzled over how it was even possible for the systems to recover from the hard-hitting virus. "Are they all up?"

"No," Parker quickly explained. "It looks like a fairly small improvement. I want you to take a look and see exactly what has changed, and to see if you can get a few more sensors online."

"Can do," Miguel's mind raced. Had Lucas finally been forced to work on the ship's systems? Were they spontaneously recovering? Or was there another factor at work? Most of all, he wondered, how could this be a positive development for the crew? Ortiz had to admit that, at the rate the systems had been going down, it was getting scary to be on the submarine. But still – if it was scary for him, an experienced submariner, then he could only imagine how frightening it was for the terrorists. No, Miguel decided, this was definitely not a positive development in their situation. "Which sensors are suddenly working again?" Miguel looked at Parker, effortlessly masking his dismay.

"The port forward came online about an hour ago," Parker pointed at the interface that Miguel was now seated before. "Can you get the rest on that circuit to come up as well?"

"Oh," Miguel examined the readouts and quickly realized that he could bring all of the sensors online. Somehow the overrun of energy that had been shorting the sensors out one by one had been reduced to within optimal range. Ortiz had a sense of how it had to have been done, but none of the technical expertise to work with the complex wiring that would be involved in the temporary job of reducing the energy until they could isolate and eliminate the virus that caused the power surge. In fact, Miguel reflected further, there was only one person onboard who could go in and fix the virus. That was Lucas. There was likewise only one person onboard who could manually go into the systems and patch them together so that they ran properly in the short-term until Lucas could fix the virus. That was Commander Hitchcock.

Knowing what he was probably dealing with, Ortiz's question was simple enough. If he brought up the sensors, they would work until Katie's temporary patch failed. It could be a week, or it could be as long as two months, Miguel guessed. The virus seemed too potent for any patch to survive it much longer than a week or two, but Miguel had no way of knowing how extensively Hitchcock had altered the wiring for the sensors. On the other hand, if Ortiz did not bring up the sensors, there was the risk that one of the terrorists would suspect – or even discover – his deception. There was also the further possibility that leaving the sensors down might get Katie into trouble.

Ortiz took a deep breath, reminded himself that the sensors were not weapons, and began to work at the interface to revive the downed sensors. "They'll be up in an hour."

"Great!" Parker was shocked and elated to hear the first good news on the ship's status since they had realized the virus was running through the systems unchecked. "That's just great, Ortiz!"

'Yes, it is,' Miguel thought unhappily, even as he weakly returned the terrorist's smile. 'Just great.'

The doors to the bridge opened, and Miguel looked up to see Lucas and Tollman enter the bridge. However, unlike the last time Miguel had seen Lucas, the teenager avoided eye contact and simply strode over to the captain's chair, wearily slumping against the left armrest.

'And I thought_ I_ was tired.' The sensors technician eyed Lucas worriedly. 'I wonder what's up with him.'

"Stand up," Tollman commanded Lucas when the teen began to slide further down into the chair as if he intended to doze off. "This is not nap time."

Lucas slowly lifted himself from the chair, stifling a yawn as he took up a position behind the chair, and leaned his weight against its back. He wanted to point out that he'd been awake all night, in hopes that it had been an oversight on somebody's part, but Lucas was too upset with Tollman's outburst the night before to ask for something and risk allowing himself to become comfortable around his captor again. 'From now on this is not going to be easy for him,' Lucas vowed to himself. 'He can shoot me if he wants, but he will not have my cooperation.'

'He does not look happy,' Miguel turned back to the sensors with a shake of his head. 'I hope nobody's messing with him too badly; this situation really sucks for him.'

Silence fell over the bridge.

&


	5. Chapter 5

Adapt

Adapt

Thank you so much for the kind reviews! My pneumonia is much improved, and I am just using an inhaler at this point – so I can actually get life-related things done and get back to my writing! A special thank you to Celestial Fever, who not only made me blush with some very nice compliments, but also has made me fully commit to finishing this fic, no matter what. I did not foresee NOT finishing it, but I suppose an explicit commitment to do so never hurts! And, as before, thank you Shudunedus! I am a huge fan of strong female characters, and since seaQuest is full of them… we writers should let them do what they do best! Expect more from Katie before long!

And in the meantime… Enjoy!

Chapter Five

"What is that?" Ben asked absently as he tooled with a walkie-talkie.

"What is what?" Captain Bridger had long since abandoned helping Ben pare down the design of his walkie-talkies. When Ben had described the endeavor as 'kind of like sawing off a shotgun – all the pieces are essentially the same, we just make the package smaller,' Nathan had been enthusiastic. Breaking off the outer casing of the odd transmitters had revealed that the technology was relatively old, crude, and inefficient. Ben had enthusiastically gone to work reducing the number of circuits necessary in the toys (Bridger didn't want to consider why the supplies officer had seen a need for non-PAL communication on the boat, nor was he entirely certain that it would work even if they could rewire the electronics – all of which was a moot point if they couldn't make the communication device smaller and less obtrusive), but the captain has quickly become discouraged with his own ability to alter the walkie-talkies. Ben apparently had experience with simple electronics of this sort.

"There's noise outside our quarters," Ben shushed the captain and set down the walkie-talkie he was adapting. "Is someone there?" Krieg called out, a little louder.

The door swung open suddenly and Tim O'Neill waved in at the two shocked inmates. Commander Ford was immediately behind Tim and pushed past him into the secured quarters.

"Captain," Ford urgently addressed Bridger while Tim followed him into the room and pulled the door closed behind himself, "we can't stay long. We barely managed to get away, and Perkins will be back in approximately twenty-two minutes. Do you have a plan?"

"Well," Bridger reacted quickly to the situation, managing to snap out of his shock, and gestured to Ben's mess of wires and plastic, "we have been attempting to rewire a secure form of communication."

"Walkie-talkies?" Jonathan smiled reflexively as he took in Krieg's attempts. "Do you really think we could distribute these unnoticed?"

"That's what we're working on, Commander," Bridger replied.

Ben held up a handful of exposed wiring. "I am rewiring these so they'll be more efficient and a lot smaller."

Tim sat down on the bunk across from Krieg and picked up one walkie-talkie. "I could rewire these pretty easily – and maybe even add a little programming to camouflage them better."

"Could you disguise them as something else?" Ford asked, realizing the potential of the devices. "Maybe as several different things – then if some are discovered, the coalition won't be able to find all of them."

"That shouldn't be hard, as long as we can get some – I don't know – electric shavers? Small medical devices?" Ben brainstormed quickly. "If we want to set one or two up as bugs, we could rig that as well."

"Do you mind if I take all of these?" Tim gestured to the open case of walkie-talkies. "If I work on them alone, I can make sure they all work and are compatible."

"Sure," Ben started to place the pieces of walkie-talkie into the box. "Thanks, Tim."

"How in the world did you manage to escape?" Bridger asked, watching Tim lift the case and carry it toward the door. "How did you know nobody would see you coming here?"

"Ask him," Tim nodded toward Ford, raising his eyebrows as a faint smile crossed his features. "He took care of most of that."

"We are secured in my quarters," Ford said by way of explanation. "I have some resources."

"Well, continue to utilize them," Bridger commended Ford, "they seem to be working out just fine so far. If you could get these walkie-talkies to some of the crew soon, what do you propose we do? In case you haven't noticed, we're in a bad situation regardless of our communication problems."

"If we can decide on a unified approach, that would be a start," Jonathan replied with a shrug. "Then we'll just wait for an opportunity. Right now I think our priority should be getting everyone on the same page, though."

Bridger nodded thoughtfully, mentally tallying the number of crew he had no contact with at all. "Let's get started on that."

"We should go," Tim announced, looking at his watch.

"We'll be back once these are working." Ford took the case from O'Neill and preceded the communications officer into the hall. "As we strategize, I think it's safe to plan on having relatively free communication with most of the crew very soon."

"That's excellent, commander," Bridger responded as he and Ben watched their crewmates leave and secure their cell once more. Nathan sighed; as the shock of seeing Jonathan and Tim began to wear off and the reality sank in, he could not describe the relief he felt at having a capable plan underway and in the hands of the most appropriate crew members he could think of.

"Glad to have your crew back?" Ben was absorbing his own surprise and delight at his crewmates' ingenuity and noted the captain's change of mood immediately. He grinned as Captain Bridger stretched leisurely and simply nodded.

"Now we can get these pirates off of seaQuest," Bridger pronounced. "As a crew, I have the utmost faith in your abilities."

"Thanks, Captain," Krieg smiled again. "Good to hear."

&

"So, uh," Miguel had finished his work bringing the sensors back to life, but he had been distracted most of the time by the clearly distressed young man stifling yawns every few minutes. After carefully weighing the pros and cons and thinking through what he might say, Ortiz had decided to speak up on Lucas' behalf. "Is he OK?" Miguel pointed over at Lucas, looking in Tollman's direction questioningly.

"He's fine. Are you finished?" Perkins spoke up before Tollman could respond. The terrorist had seemed more on edge than usual since the fire in Wolenczak's quarters, and Perkins didn't want Ortiz to become a target.

"Almost," Miguel stalled. He looked directly at Tollman, knowing that Perkins had spoken quickly to keep Tollman from answering his question. "When did Lucas last sleep?"

Tollman looked up sharply, and Perkins stepped forward and gestured for Miguel to stand up.

"We're leaving now, Ortiz," Perkins stated firmly. "Nobody appreciates your insinuations, and you really should not be asking about the others on this submarine. Those sensors look active enough to me, so let's get you back to bed."

"Then you know why I'm asking," Miguel maintained an affable demeanor, but his meaning was clear. "You do know how much trouble you'd be in with the UEO if you were torturing him."

"Miguel," Lucas felt compelled to speak, not only to protect his friend from what looked like an escalating confrontation, but also because he was extraordinarily uncomfortable with the implication that he was being tortured – that he should take his predicament that seriously – that he really was a helpless prisoner and had been for two weeks.

"Lucas, if they aren't letting you sleep, it's officially torture by the fiftieth hour," Miguel quickly informed the teen, knowing he'd be cut off at any moment. "Clinical studies-,"

"That's enough, Ortiz," Tollman interrupted forcefully. "Leave the bridge right now."

"Let's go," Perkins glanced nervously at Tollman as he ushered Ortiz off of the bridge. The sensors specialist moved without resistance, but maintained eye contact with the kid as long as he could, broadcasting both support of his friend and resistance toward their situation.

"Watch what they're doing, Lucas," Miguel called over his shoulder. "They know what they're doing; be sure of that."

Lucas felt his stomach tighten as he watched his crewmate ushered off of the bridge. He quickly counted the hours and realized that it had been thirty-two hours since he'd last slept. Would it be another eighteen hours before he was allowed to sit down or even doze off?

Tollman watched Lucas' reaction to Ortiz's ill-advised outburst with consternation. First the kid realized that he could make things difficult simply by forcing his captor to threaten him constantly. Now that he was fully aware of, or at least suspicious of, their intention of 'encouraging' him by keeping him awake, who knew how he'd respond the next time they broached the subject of fixing the submarine's computers.

One of the other terrorists on the bridge leaned over to speak to Tollman without Lucas hearing him. "He looks scared, T."

So he did. Tollman had seen the resistance in Wolenczak's body language, but now that he thought about it, he could see that it was a combination of fear and rebellion – heavy on the fear. Unbidden, Tollman's frustration began to mount again.

'Oh, no,' Tollman recognized the feeling. 'I have to get myself under control.' Tollman was suddenly very afraid that he might have a similar outburst to the one he'd had the night before. He took a deep breath, sipped at his coffee for a couple of minutes, and reached a decision.

"Thanks, Marty," Tollman intoned to his companion, responding as quietly as he had been addressed. "I'd almost forgotten that we're trying to convert these people; not just keep them in line."

Lucas silently leaned against the captain's chair, willing his ears to make out what was being said behind him. 'What now?' Lucas thought wearily, feeling a headache begin as he concentrated on the words Tollman was saying. He could not make out anything; Tollman was too quiet.

"Wolenczak," Tollman called over to the kid as the terrorist stood up. He was careful not to sound intimidating or angry. "Lucas?" That was what Ortiz had called him. Maybe a switch to first names would help Tollman keep himself in touch with the fact that this was a kid he was dealing with. "I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes. Then maybe you should get some sleep."

Lucas turned slowly to face Tollman. His expression was sullen, but his eyes were open a little too wide. It was as if the teen's pupils were trying to take in every possible detail at once, for fear that the one thing he missed would be the one thing that proved threatening.

"Please," Tollman had to suppress another wave of frustration when Lucas did not respond or move, "let's get you a place to sleep and just talk for a few minutes. I'm sorry about last night, and I'm sorry your friend thinks we're going to violate UEO anti-torture directives."

"You were planning to," Lucas responded, his voice just above a whisper. He quickly cleared his throat, obviously surprised by his own frightened and submissive tone.

"Yes," Tollman responded honestly. "But we weren't going to hurt you. And I think it would be best if we got you to bed and tried to move past this mistake. Do you think that would be good?"

Lucas stifled a yawn. 'Funny,' he thought to himself, 'I'm being asked whether or not I want to be tortured, and I'm yawning.'

Tollman wasn't sure if he should feel encouraged or deeply concerned when he saw the ghost of a smile cross the boy's features.

"Sleep would be good," Lucas said tentatively. Honestly, he wasn't sure how to respond to his captor's openness. Admitting that he'd intended to deprive Lucas of sleep would have gotten him into severe trouble in a court of law, but Tollman had admitted it anyway. Granted, it had become pretty obvious to everyone – even Miguel had known what was going on. But still, Lucas couldn't help but be a little impressed by Tollman's brutal honesty. And that emotion worried him. If this was actually some kind of complicated good-terrorist, bad-terrorist setup, then having Lucas admire Tollman would be a good first step toward getting him to cooperate.

'I am clearly way too tired,' Lucas cut off his train of thought. 'Maybe after I talk to him and get some sleep I'll be able to figure this out more rationally.'

Neither Tollman nor Lucas moved, having reached verbal agreement.

"So…" Tollman prompted, gesturing toward the hall leading away from the bridge. "Shall we?"

"Where are we going?" Lucas asked as he walked into the hall. He noted bemusedly how natural it was beginning to feel when Tollman fell into step right behind him. "I hope you don't think I'm going back to that fire pit."

"I don't know how badly your quarters have been damaged, but that's not what I had in mind," Tollman answered.

&

"No!" Lucas shouted, flinging charred clothing across his charred quarters. Tollman had found a small room where, if he and Lucas doubled up, they could be isolated from other members of the seaQuest crew. The terrorist had then taken Lucas back to his quarters to salvage clothing and personal items while they 'had a talk.'

The talk had not been going well. When the pair had arrived at his quarters Lucas had looked around in shock, seeming to ignore Tollman's ongoing explanation, but now the teen was suddenly becoming hysterical. Tollman couldn't figure out what had set him off, unless it was the sight of the dramatically scarred room.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Tollman responded with an almost monotone voice. His patience was fluctuating wildly again, and he didn't trust himself to speak in anything but a level tone – particularly when Lucas was modeling violent behavior for the tense coalition member. Tollman's hands clenched as he watched Lucas grab at some destroyed computer equipment and slam it into his metal desk with a satisfying crunch.

"I mean _no_!" Lucas responded irrationally. His voice raised into a keening howl as he tore a sheaf of ash that had once been old photographs from an open drawer and threw the fragile black pages all over the floor. "What am I supposed to do? Why are you doing this? Where is the captain?!"

"Hey," Seeing the destroyed (and irreplaceable) photographs, Tollman felt his mood shift dramatically again and he was suddenly overwhelmed by empathy for the teenager. He was reminded of how young he himself had been when his father died. Something about Lucas' impotent but desperate rage reminded Tollman of his own violent reaction to the traumatic news. The terrorist grabbed Lucas before the teen could start pulling down deformed components of his almost-unrecognizable stereo, forcibly pulling him into an almost-violent embrace. "Buddy, I know. I know, Lucas."

"You don't-," Lucas' voice was cut off by a sob that seemed to last long enough to choke the teenager. Lucas fought the terrorist's arms, fighting to get clear of his captor.

They stood that way, Tollman forcing Lucas to be still while the teen continued fighting and trying to protest through violent sobs, until Lucas was abruptly exhausted. The lack of sleep and mental exertion he'd experienced over the last few days had drained him almost completely of any emotions but frustration and anger, and this last outburst sapped even those remaining feelings.

"I know," Tollman repeated soothingly, holding the tired and emotionally empty hostage against his chest and listening to the boy's violent sobs as they slowed. "But you need to be strong. Whatever your decision, you need to be strong. The others need that, and you need that."

"I don't know what to do," Lucas hiccupped once, so hard that he started coughing against Tollman's left shoulder. "But I won't help you; I'll never betray my captain."

"I don't want you to betray anything that you believe in," Tollman relaxed his death grip on Lucas slightly. "I want you to understand us, and perhaps see that you believe in the coalition as well as the mission of your captain. We're not so different."

'I need to talk to Captain Bridger,' Lucas thought. 'He's the only one who will know what I should do.'

"What, Wolenczak?" Tollman asked, observing Lucas' pensive expression and feeling a slight rebuild of tension in the boy's previously exhausted and pliant shoulders. "What are you thinking?"

"That I want to talk to the Captain," Lucas was too exhausted to lie; besides, he thought, nothing could be lost by telling the truth now. "But I guess that's not likely to happen, huh?"

"If that's what you want," Tollman considered aloud, "maybe I can swing something for you."

"Seriously?" Lucas' head snapped up alertly and he stepped back from Tollman, who released him entirely. "I can see Captain Bridger? I can talk to him?"

"We're trying to help maintain peace, Lucas," Tollman responded wryly. "It's not efficient in the long run to let you all have the run of the boat or close contact with each other, but I think that it would be good for you to talk to Bridger. Maybe then you'll have some peace about helping us out a little, once you see that it's not a choice between our crew and yours. We can all work together."

Lucas did not respond verbally, but his skeptical expression spoke volumes.

"Hear me out," Tollman sat down on a patch of Lucas' bed that had not been burnt as badly as the rest of the quarters. "This is complicated, but I really think you'll see it the way I do."

Lucas hiccupped again, but did not interrupt when Tollman began his pitch.

"We started up about five years ago, when I met Redding…"

&

"You're coming with us," Two members of the coalition approached Bridger during lunch several days after Lucas' emotional meltdown.

"Why? What do you want?" Kristin was disturbed by this sudden break in the daily routine.

Nathan shook his head slightly at the doctor, hoping that gesture would be enough to silence her voiced concerns. "That's fine. I'd be happy to discuss whatever it is you need me for."

Bridger and the two terrorists left the room.

"That could be good," Ben mused, watching the two leave. He made eye contact with Dr. Westphalen. "The one thing we need more of on this boat is communication. I haven't heard from Tim yet, so as long as Bridger is really being called upon to consult on something with the coalition, this might be more information we can work with."

"Or they could be putting Nathan in isolation," Kristin snapped in response.

"Where?" Ben asked, forcing a relaxed smile as he gestured with his arms. "There is no space for that. Just the other day I heard that Lucas managed to pull off some sort of rebellious counter-strike that destroyed his quarters – he's fine, Kristin, and the look on your face is exactly why I didn't tell you about this before – and they've been trying to find HIM a place to sleep ever since."

"I am not encouraged by that news at all," Kristin informed him shortly. "How did you hear that about Lucas? Did you hear anything more about how he's doing? Was he in trouble? What did he do to his quarters?"

"This is all third-hand," Ben replied, "but apparently Lucas started a fire in his room in order to force the terrorists to move him, so that he'd have better access to the computers and more contact with the crew. There was a report that he got yelled at-," Ben did not mention that the terrifying news he'd actually gotten was that someone had overheard Lucas screaming in pain during the confrontation between he and a terrorist over the issue of his quarters, "but since they're working on finding him a better place to stay than wherever he is right now, I'd guess they're not going to hurt him if they can avoid it." 'Too badly, anyway,' the supplies officer thought grimly to himself. He was slowly coming to appreciate Kristin's philosophy of protecting Lucas at the expense of other goals. Personal survival and escape seemed like hollow rewards if the cost was Lucas running himself ragged and getting beaten (or worse) for his trouble.

"Maybe that's why they've asked to speak with Nathan," Kristin suddenly lightened up. "Maybe they want him to talk to Lucas and calm him down. If they're invested in getting Lucas' help, then maybe they've decided to try to negotiate and work more closely with us to resolve the situation!"

Ben could hardly believe the insanely optimistic idea coming from Dr. Westphalen. "What?" He responded in disbelief, unable to stop the word from escaping.

"Not likely?" Kristin's enthusiasm deflated as abruptly as it had appeared. "No, I guess not."

"That's not what I meant," Ben tried to undo the damage his reaction had done. "No, I was just surprised because that's actually kind of – likely – and, um, I was surprised I hadn't considered that possibility yet."

It sounded weak to everyone at the table, and several members of the science team whom Ben had never met before cast him dismayed expressions at his total inability to reassure Kristin. Ben shrugged at them. 'I did the best I could,' he thought in annoyance.

They all went back to finishing their lunch in silence, trying to ignore the untouched tray before Captain Bridger's seat. Ben sneaked one look at Kristin, but the expression of frustration, worry, and angry determination on her face convinced him to focus on his food. There was nothing he could do at the moment, and getting upset would just make it harder to wait for an opportunity to do something.


	6. Chapter 6

Adapt

Adapt

Thank you so much for the awesome reviews! I love feedback, and it was actually an interesting challenge to try to mentally fit this story into the canon – pre- or post-Node 3, hm, ElizabetRose? I'd say pre-Node 3, but I would definitely have to sit down and think hard if I were to place the story definitively between two episodes. I'll let you know if I decide! I'm so glad you all are pulling so wholeheartedly for the characters, too! I get excited about them, and I love it when someone says something like "Go Miguel!" or "Go Katie!" So thank you for a great level of energy!! I'm sure they appreciate the moral support, too!

Side note: I am feeling much better, and although I am moving across the state this week (augh!), I hope to settle into a more regular pattern of updating soon. Thanks for your patience, and enjoy!

Chapter Six

"Simmons, I'm not sure I should be watching Wolenczak any longer. I'm afraid the stress is getting to me, and I'm going to lose my temper. Is there anyone else who can take over for me for at least a few days?" Tollman confessed, all in one breath. When he had actually visualized taking a swing at the teenager when the boy had started loudly talking in his sleep the previous night, Tollman had finally been shocked enough by his own behavior to meet with Simmons about changing his duty. He had sent a few members of the coalition to prepare Bridger for a conversation with Lucas, but his mood swings had been escalating since Lucas' brief freak-out to the point where he didn't want to wait any longer before dealing with his steadily increasing emotional instability.

"Well," Simmons didn't want to explain why he was reluctant to reassign Tollman; it was becoming difficult to keep track of who was doing what complicated job on seaQuest, and the stress of the long-term situation had already necessitated too many unexpected changes of duties. Confusion was the last element Simmons wanted onboard the hijacked submarine. "Tell me exactly what has you worried about your temper. Because, as far as I can tell, you've done an excellent job with Wolenczak." Tollman raised an eyebrow at that comment, so Simmons continued. "From what I've heard, you set up a very consistent routine. Then you shook it up when the fire started in his quarters, and you kept him awake for a while – without even crossing the line into torture, well done, by the way – and you ultimately had an emotional bonding experience with him. Now you're even working with him to the point that he's asking you for favors and you're delivering on them. He is meeting with his captain today, right?"

"Yes," Tollman admitted. All of that sounded pretty well calculated to break Wolenczak's resistance, gain his trust, and emotionally reattach him to the terrorist group. However, he had to make his leader understand that it had _not_ been calculated. It had been a haphazard slide that could have ended disastrously at any point if Tollman had lost control of himself. And it was getting harder and harder to keep that control.

"Then I don't see the problem," Simmons answered. "Moreover, do you think that the stress would be any less on another coalition member? Because if you're able to control your temper and another person is not – well, I'd rather not reassign our best chance of getting this boat under control if he's likely to be a stressful enough charge to get himself hurt."

"Well," Tollman wasn't sure how to explain that Lucas hadn't actually been the problem; that Tollman himself was the unstable factor in the situation. "I'm not sure that another member would lose his temper with Wolenczak."

"Is this _personal_?"

"No," Tollman hurriedly assured Simmons. "It's just that I'm burning out or something-,"

"We all are," Simmons made his decision and began to end the conversation. "And your first best way of relieving the stress and burnout is working with Wolenczak and getting us to the point where we're no longer policing this boat. You're doing great with the kid, and I don't want to take a chance that someone else will undo the good work you've already done. Just speed up the process if you want this over with sooner than later."

"OK," Tollman was troubled, but he felt his frustrations rise with his leader and knew he should leave now. Before he demonstrated exactly how unfit he was for _any_ coalition duty.

&

"Ben, where is the captain?" Commander Ford and Tim O'Neill had come to pay Bridger and Krieg another visit, since Tim had finally gotten the last walkie-talkie disguised and operational. But they were surprised to find Ben alone.

"Well, Commander Ford," Ben sighed deeply, "do you want the nice version or the no-holds-barred version?"

"Just tell me, Ben," Jonathan had no patience for Krieg's careful preparation of the men for the bad news. "What's going on?"

"I think that the coalition is torturing Lucas to get him to fix the computer, and they took the captain to help persuade him." Ben closed his eyes and waited for their reactions.

"What?" Tim's eyes widened dramatically. "They're doing _what_?"

"What did you hear?" Ford shook his head as if to remove a painful image from his mind. "Tell me _exactly_ what you know."

"Well, I've had a lot of time to think about it," Krieg began. "What I actually heard was that Lucas burned his quarters in protest of the hijacking."

"We know about that," Ford answered, "but Tim and I heard it was an accident."

"That's what they're saying," Ben nodded. "But an ensign told me that one of the science techs they're trying to coerce into working on the energy conduits overheard Lucas screaming in his quarters the day after the fire. It sounded like it was worse than just a beating, Commander."

"My God," Ford breathed. "We've got to do something right away. Lucas is a civilian; we have a duty to protect him."

Tim was staring at Ben, his mouth slightly open as if the officer had forgotten to close it once he'd heard about his friend's situation. "They're hurting Lucas _and_ using the captain to coerce him?"

"Yes; what about the captain?" Jonathan seemed even more intense than he had been while planning the distress message, though it hardly seemed possible.

"They took him from the lunch shift today," Ben related. "They didn't explain, but the only thing I could come up with was that they want to use the captain against Lucas. They haven't wanted to talk to Bridger before today, and just days after we get reports that Lucas is being… _forced_ to work on the computers? It seems like that's the most likely explanation."

"We're distributing these _today_," Ford commanded abruptly, pointing at the case of walkie-talkies that now appeared to be a case of medical and personal care supplies. "I will be back in four hours with a plan, and we _will_ take back this submarine."

"Aye, sir," Ben saluted reflexively at the commander's authoritative directive. "They will be distributed at dinner, and we will stand by for your order."

"Come on, O'Neill," Ford turned to leave. "We have planning to do. This is not ideal, but we now have a deadline."

"Wait," Ben stopped Tim for a moment and pushed a bioscanner walkie-talkie into his hand. "Take this. If I hear anything, I'll need to be able to get in touch with you."

"Good thinking, Krieg," Ford responded.

Tim raised the bioscanner in thanks as he followed the commander into the hall.

Ben looked at the crate full of supplies. He'd planned to smuggle the communication devices slowly and subtly, over time. He needed a new plan for distribution, and quickly.

&

"It's been too long," Katie muttered to herself as she looked around her quarters for materials she could use to hack into the ship's communications systems. Now that the sensors were operational, Hitchcock wanted to focus on her real objective: contacting the UEO and developing a plan to rescue the crew from their hijackers. "The sensors aren't going to hold out much longer if I can't find some more materials."

A knock on the door of her quarters startled Katie into jumping to her feet from where she'd been sitting on her bed. Were the hijackers _knocking_?

"You've got to be kidding me," Commander Hitchcock called out to whoever had been knocking.

The door swung open, revealing a sheepish-looking member of the coalition, who was leading Security Chief Crocker. Crocker was, Katie immediately noticed, carrying a duffel bag.

"What's going on?" Hitchcock asked, her heart leaping into her throat. Were they moving her to another room? She needed the access point in order to contact the UEO!

"Um," The member of the coalition was young and blushed very deeply as he gestured helplessly at Crocker. "He is, uh, going to-,"

"We'll be cohabitating," Crocker smiled tightly at Katie. "Don't worry; I'm a perfect gentleman."

"I see," Katie gestured behind her at the single bed. "And how exactly-,"

"I'll bring a cot," The coalition member slammed the door behind Crocker and fled.

"A cot," Katie looked at her unexpected roommate and began to smile.

"I know it," Crocker began to chuckle. "They were pretty desperate for the space. I think they'll have another place for me within twenty-four hours."

"Actually, this is perfect!" Katie began to pace excitedly. "Let me tell you exactly what I've been doing. Maybe, if you'll be moving in and out of this room, you could help me get some supplies in here."

"I'd be happy to," the Security Chief grinned. "I've mainly been sabotaging systems and stockpiling potential weapons, but if you've got a plan, I'd be happy to help."

"Sabotaging the systems?" Katie was momentarily stunned. "I've been trying to fix them."

"Uh," Chief Crocker looked uncomfortable for a moment.

The two burst into laughter, each managing to shake off the depressing thought that they'd been working at cross purposes for two weeks. The important thing was that they would not be doing so any longer.

"I guess this is why they make engineers go to seminars on the importance of communication," Katie dried her eyes as her hysterical, stress-induced laughter slowly died away. "I think we'll both find out job a little easier now."

"I certainly hope so!"

The two were still chuckling over the situation when the young member of the coalition dropped off the cot.

"It's got a metal frame!" Katie exclaimed as soon as the terrorist was gone. "Let's get it dismantled and see if we can get some pieces sheared off that are small enough to be used inside of the tubes…"

The two set on the task together, each happy to have company and inspired by the knowledge that they'd be working unobstructed toward their goal.

&

"Don't try anything," Redding snarled, shoving Captain Bridger into Lucas' quarters.

"I've been sufficiently prepared, thank you," Bridger responded dryly, looking around himself at the destroyed room with some dismay. He had been lectured long and hard by several members of the coalition on exactly what he should and should not say to Lucas – and even told by several of the more psychology-minded of the coalition what sort of tone to use.

The captain was quickly becoming concerned; this was far beyond the usual amount of emphasis placed on the teenager in times of computer-related crisis. The coalition had to be under an incredible amount of stress if they were no longer even considering other approaches to getting the ship under control – their single-minded pursuit of Lucas' cooperation smacked of amateurish desperation. 'But how can we use that narrow-minded focus to our advantage?' Bridger asked himself, even as he felt guilty for asking that question before considering suggesting alternative approaches to the coalition. Alternative approaches that might take some of the heat off of his civilian charge. Alternative approaches that, Bridger quickly rationalized, might get them all blown out of the water. 'No, it's better for Lucas' safety that he remain the sacrificial lamb,' Bridger thought harshly, chastising himself for putting the teen in that position even as he made his decision.

Nathan looked around the room more closely, shook his head and attempted to begin cleaning up the mess. As the minutes became half an hour, Bridger found himself up to his elbows in Lucas' T-shirts, sorting the blackened clothing from the untouched. 'Eight shirts won't last him long, the way he wears through clothing,' Nathan made a mental note of the number as he began to sift through Lucas' jeans. They appeared to have been closer to the source of the fire, but the resistant material might have survived even that. Nathan began to examine the pairs at the bottom of the drawer, hoping for at least one to be intact. 'He'll eventually need a change of clothing, and I'd rather not see him in a coalition uniform,' Bridger made a face.

The door swung open behind the captain, and he waved in acknowledgement.

"I found a pair of jeans that are still OK," Nathan explained as he grabbed the pile of T-shirts and turned to face the newcomer.

"What?" Tollman was standing in the doorway, staring at the captain in disbelief. "We leave you here until Wolenczak wakes up, and you're going through his clothing?"

Bridger did not bother to point out that the clothing had been partially strewn across the quarters, making his action hardly a violation of Lucas' privacy, opting to wait for news of Lucas and their impending chat.

"Don't touch anything else," Tollman recovered from his surprise enough to growl at the captain. "This is his room, and I'll be fixing it up personally. You can give that clothing to me."

"You might want to get rid of the snake shirt before he sees it," Bridger tried to joke with the terrorist as he handed over the jeans and T-shirts. "I've been trying to convince him to part with it for months."

"Then you'll be happy to hear that he's replaced his civilian clothing with coalition black," Tollman glowered at the captain. As much as he wanted to win Lucas over to the coalition's way of thinking, Tollman had little patience for the senior members of the seaQuest crew since it had become clear that none of them would consider joining up. Letting the captain believe, even if only for a few moments, that Lucas had defected was the best sport Tollman had had in weeks.

Bridger had paled at Tollman's words, and when the terrorist left he simply stood in the middle of Lucas' quarters, staring at the closed door.

&

"Hey, Lucas," Tollman retrieved the teenager from the tiny room they'd moved into. Lucas had taken a long nap and then showered, and since he had not ended up salvaging any of his own clothing during the disastrous trip to his quarters, he had donned one of Tollman's extra uniforms. "You look like a five-year-old playing dress-up."

Lucas smirked at the much-taller, much-broader terrorist. "Yeah, if five-year-olds dressed up like eco-terrorists."

"Roll up the pant legs a little more – I'd prefer it if you didn't wear through them with those sneakers," Tollman directed, grabbing one of Lucas' rolled up sleeves and trying to roll it a little tighter.

Lucas pulled away, annoyed by the scrutiny of his height and build, and quickly rolled the pants of the black jumpsuit up so he was no longer standing on the bottom of the pant legs.

"I guess there's nothing I can do about the shoulders," Tollman shook his head. "I'll see if I can get one that fits you better, but for now this is all I've got."

"Whatever," Lucas looked away from his captor. "I'll just grab some clothes from my room."

"Uh," Tollman inwardly grimaced at the lie he was about to tell. "It's all pretty… damaged. I'm afraid you're stuck with the uniform for the time being."

Lucas looked up at Tollman, and momentarily felt like despairing. However, mentally lecturing himself that it would be childish to react that way to losing his clothing, he simply looked down at the uniform he was wearing and took a deep, calming breath. "A five-year-old, huh?" He asked wryly.

"A five-year-old who is NOT going to get his clothing dirty, got it?" Tollman responded lightly, heartened by Lucas' acceptance of the situation. A change of clothing might just precede a change of attitude – or so he hoped.

"Where's the captain?" Lucas changed the subject, eager to be reunited with Bridger. "Can I talk to him now?"

"Absolutely." Tollman smiled. Success! They'd exchanged banter about the clothing, Lucas was dressing like the coalition, and now the teenager was beginning to automatically rely on Tollman for the fulfillment of his needs and wishes. This just might be working.

&

"Lucas!" Bridger couldn't decide if he was more relieved or troubled to see the teenager. On the one hand, he was in one piece. On the other hand, Lucas was wearing a much-too-large jumpsuit and appeared to be in troublingly good spirits. "How have they been treating you?"

"Fine, sir," Lucas looked to Tollman for permission before accepting a quick, protective hug from his captain. "How are you? And the rest of the crew?"

"We're just fine, Lucas," Bridger had instinctively pushed Lucas further into the room, placing his own body between the teenager and the armed terrorist. "Worried about you, and eager to resolve this situation, but we're all just fine."

"Oh, good," Lucas sighed in relief. "Um, is there any way I can, uh-," Lucas addressed Tollman hesitantly. "Can I talk to Captain Bridger alone for a few minutes? Like you said, we all want this resolved, and I really feel weird with you standing right there."

Both Bridger and Tollman raised their eyebrows at the informal tone of Lucas' request. Tollman was surprised that Lucas had even made it, and chalked it up as another good sign; Lucas was clearly getting accustomed to life with the coalition, and beginning to adjust to his new boundaries and privileges. Bridger sensed much the same thing, but his expression was far from pleased.

"No problem, Lucas. I'll be back in a few minutes." Tollman smiled graciously, allowing himself a triumphant glance in Bridger's direction as he left. The captain glared back, further supporting Tollman's theory: the coalition was slowly winning the teenager over.

The door shut behind Tollman, and Bridger started talking immediately.

"Lucas, why are you wearing that uniform? And why on earth are you so friendly with that man? You do recall that we are hostages aboard our own submarine, don't you?" Bridger's voice dripped with sarcasm as he restrained himself from grabbing Lucas bodily. After all of his worrying about the teenager, the captain was incensed by the exchange he had just seen.

"Yeah," Lucas rounded on the captain, shocked by Bridger's assumptions and instantly riled, "And I changed my name to Tollman-," he jabbed a finger at the name patch on the suit, "and we're announcing our engagement next week. Sorry you had to find out like this, _sir_."

"Lucas-," Bridger took a deep breath, ready to firmly advise the teenager on how he should conduct himself under these extreme circumstances, when Lucas hurried to interrupt.

"Captain, wait." Lucas abruptly let the sarcasm fade from his voice and just looked very hurt. "Do you actually think I would join them? I have been dragged around seaQuest by that guy for weeks, my quarters are, well-," Lucas gestured around himself at the destroyed room. "You see what happened here. They've been pushing me around the whole time, threatening me and trying to convince me to betray you. I'm hardly ever around any of the crew, so I never know how you all are doing. And I don't even know if I should be trying to save the seaQuest or sitting on my hands while the systems go under."

"Oh, Lucas," Bridger listened to the boy's speech and then sighed in relief. "I'm so sorry, kiddo. I know you wouldn't betray anyone – I'm just scared. For you, for the crew, and for the seaQuest."

"And the world," Lucas gestured in frustration. "Who knows what's going to happen."

"No," Bridger corrected gently. "The UEO will make sure that we don't endanger anyone."

"Yeah," Lucas suddenly seemed distant as his mind played out several new ideas. Just talking to Bridger seemed to inspire his brain to work more creatively. "Yeah – what if we could make ourselves a danger? We'd get the UEO to step in, and at least we'd have the terrorists off-guard, and maybe we could take over the boat! I could bring the systems back online, Captain, and-,"

"_No_!" Bridger wanted to clap a hand over his own mouth when he realized how loudly he'd spoken. "I mean, no, Lucas, absolutely not. This is not a game, and if you actually brought any of those systems online, then you would be endangering a whole lot more people than just this crew."

"But I could make it _look_ like they were online without actually arming anything," Lucas protested. "Then, at least, we might have a chance. Something would have to give!"

"Not necessarily," Bridger responded. "You might just start a countdown. The UEO would destroy seaQuest in a matter of hours, and we might never get control of her."

"We're not in control of her now," Lucas responded petulantly. "And it doesn't look like we're going to get control any time soon unless something changes."

Nathan internally debated telling Lucas about the walkie-talkies. Once they had communication, once they had observed their captors, once they had a plan… Then, perhaps, they could discuss wild maneuvers like making themselves a threat to the UEO. But, --Bridger mentally steeled himself against what he knew he had to do--, Lucas was the person the terrorists were focused on. As such, he was the last person who should be expected to keep any information a secret.

"All I can say," Bridger locked eyes with the young scientist intently, "is _not now_. I hope that's enough for you, because I can't tell you any more. It could put you at even more risk."

"What do you mean?" Lucas didn't dare hope that Captain Bridger had a plan.

"I mean, don't burn any more rooms, OK?" Nathan smiled, hoping the gesture reassured the boy.

The door swung open behind Lucas.

"What?" Lucas demanded in confusion, but Bridger shook his head in warning. Lucas lapsed into silence, mulling over the ramifications of what the captain had just said.

Redding entered the room and escorted Bridger out, shooting Lucas a derisive glance. "Tollman will be here in a few minutes. Make sure he gets you a uniform that fits."

Lucas rolled his eyes at the terrorist as he left with Captain Bridger, but immediately returned to his musing. 'Don't burn any more rooms?' Lucas mused. 'What does the captain think I've been doing?'

The more the teenager thought about it, the more worried he became. 'He may have a plan,' Lucas finally decided, 'but he definitely doesn't know what's going on aboard the seaQuest.'

Was it up to him to come up with a plan that might actually work?

&


	7. Chapter 7

Adapt

Adapt

Chapter Seven

Thank you so much for reading and being patient as I continue to move and adjust to –gasp! – super-slow internet and severely restricted access. Yes; I now have to share the phone line with nine other people. It's rough on the writing life. Or conducive, depending on how you look at it, I suppose… I have my offline laptop to type away on, even if I can't post particularly easily! It's the true test of my dedication to the craft or something.

At any rate, I'm glad you all are continuing to read and enjoy the story! I was a little worried when I logged on and saw no reviews for the last chapter… but then I saw the hits and was relieved. Though I do love to hear from you all, I am glad you're reading along even when you don't have time to drop me a note!

So… enjoy!

&

"OK, you know how to work this thing?" Ben smiled over Kristin Westphalen's shoulder at the terrorist overseeing his operation. "You just turn on the shaver, and then you press down on this part to adjust the… _frequency_."

"I think that covers it," Kristin smiled back at Ben. "I can make sure that all the women get these – thank you very much."

"No problem," Ben smiled, again directing the expression more toward the terrorist than the doctor, "I'm just glad I had these extra supplies to share with everyone. God knows we're running short on a lot of personal care items by now."

"Yes; if you find a case of deodorant, please distribute it to all the men," Doctor Westphalen's back was turned to their captor, and she allowed herself a wicked grin at the supplies officer. They had cleverly managed to supply every room that confined female officers or scientists with a walkie-talkie on the pretense of replacing dull razors. The doctor was to give a demonstration/explanation of the shavers' use for all the women, and then much of the captive crew would be in contact with each other.

The female part of the crew, Krieg realized, but he was not about to discriminate when that was the only plan he'd been able to come up with on short notice. Besides, Kristin looked positively gleeful at being in charge of distribution and guerrilla training. Even if they were only communication devices, the doctor seemed thrilled about teaching the captives to use something potentially instrumental to their eventual escape.

Ben could only hope that their enthusiasm would win the day; he'd have to see how his distribution effort meshed with Ford and O'Neill's plan when they met up that evening.

&

"Off-roading much?" Redding had reviewed the recording of Bridger's exchange with Lucas. The moment the captain realized that he had been bugged, he'd been enormously relieved: he'd made the right decision by not telling Lucas about the walkie-talkies.

Of course, he _had_ said a number of things that were in direct defiance of what he had been told to say to Lucas. 'Encourage him to make his own decisions; to think for himself.' 'Tell him to play along with our demands and keep his head down.' 'Suggest that he explore all of his options – even if they feel disloyal at first, they might turn out to be more loyal than he knows.'

Bridger smiled ruefully at the incensed terrorist before him; there was no way he'd be able to claim that he had even attempted to follow the directions given him.

"I'm not authorized to do what I'd really like to do," Redding snarled, moving dangerously close to the captain, "but let me assure you that your pet teenager won't be anywhere near your crew ever again. And, for his sake, you'd better start hoping he ignores your advice."

"That would be a little more worrisome if I actually believed that anyone on this boat was 'authorized' to do anything to him," Bridger retorted. "Threaten me all you want, but you need him."

Redding fell silent at that. Bridger wondered for a desperate moment if his lie, 'you need him,' had triggered the obvious in the terrorist's head: that the other computer specialists onboard could probably team up to do the job if they were coerced as completely as Lucas had been.

"Maybe," Redding responded thoughtfully, "you should worry about yourself, then. We can certainly threaten you if we only need him to cooperate."

Nathan shut his mouth at that. He had no way of predicting how Lucas would respond to that threat, and he never wanted to find out.

"Yes – worry about that, Bridger," Redding smiled as he ushered the captain into the quarters he shared with Ben. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you shortly."

&

Tim sighed. It had been three and a half hours, and still Ford hadn't shared a single word of the plan he was working on at his desk. 'Am I that useless to him?' O'Neill had given up trying to offer suggestions, instead picking up a book and trying to focus on the protein structures of bacteria that targeted low-growing plants. Such as potatoes. After ultimately deciding that he wasn't going to be the one to figure out the potato crop problem, Tim discarded the book but still found Jonathan reluctant to talk about the plan he was developing.

Pushing himself off of Ford's bed, Tim began to wander around the room and take in the details of his commander's quarters. The selection of books on Jonathan's shelves was about what he would have predicted – an assortment of classic literature, a number of UEO manuals, and several books on bacteria that Ford had grabbed when he and Tim had found out about the toxic potato crop that the seaQuest was investigating. There was also a paneled section at the base of the bookcase. It appeared to be simple wood paneling, but as Tim looked closer he began to suspect that it opened. There just wasn't wasted space in this room, even for decorative purposes like paneling. The communications officer reached down to feel around the carved pieces of wood to see if they moved, and Ford finally looked up.

"Tim, don't open my weapons locker."

"This is a weapons locker?" O'Neill blinked. No wonder Ford didn't want his help in devising a plan. The commander had a weapons locker in his bookcase. He had already managed to rig their door so that they could come and go at will, shown Tim how to access a crawlspace in case they needed to strategically hide a crewmate at any point, and stashed a month's supply of rations in case something went _really_ wrong.

'I ought to be reassured by all this competence,' Tim told himself. 'So why do I just feel useless?'

The bioscanner lying on the bed suddenly came to life, blinking unobtrusively as if it had simply been left on.

"Commander," Tim instantly snapped into action. As useless as he had felt a moment before, this was his area of expertise; he was abruptly on equal footing with his commanding officer. "We're in communication with someone!"

O'Neill picked up the bioscanner, adjusted the frequency until the lights were at their brightest, and then pressed the transmitter to acknowledge the page.

"Tim?" Ben's voice came through the bioscanner quietly but clearly. Tim was pleased to hear that his improvements on the quality of transmission had been so effective – it sounded like even a whisper would be intelligible over the walkie-talkies. "Are you there? Over."

"Yes," Tim responded. "And you shouldn't have to stop transmitting to receive a response. We can just talk."

There was no response for a moment.

"Over," Tim said impatiently.

"Oh, OK," Krieg responded. "Sorry. I have distributed most of the walkie-talkies, but we may need to adjust our plan a little. And I think we need a code or something, now that we'll have several dozen people on this frequency."

"Great!" O'Neill was thrilled to hear that his communications system was becoming operational. "Who else is on the frequency?"

"Hi-,"

"Ensign Lowelski-,"

"Tim, this-,"

"Hello?"

The line was suddenly filled with voices. "Hold on!" Tim spoke forcefully into the bioscanner. "We definitely need a system right away. I'd like you to look at your communications device. There should be a letter and a number, and the combination is now your identification on this frequency. I will get all of your information at 0200 hours, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," a number of the voices chorused.

"That's a little late, don't you think, Tim?" Ben inquired.

"That's the idea, Ben," Tim shook his head. "Now all of you should turn off your communicators for now – if even one of them is discovered, then we will likely lose the whole system. Be careful."

"OK." Again, voices chorused in assent.

"Wait a second," Tim countermanded his order. "Wait. You all – all of you sound… feminine."

"Uh, I was getting to that," Krieg spoke over a few giggles that were picked up by the communication devices. "I distributed the electric shavers to the women on board."

Ford looked up from the plans he was scribbling and sketching out when he heard that. "Does he even know how little sense that makes?"

"So all the women of seaQuest's crew are on this frequency?" Tim clarified. "And you only distributed the shavers?"

"There were more of them than anything else," Ben explained without even the slightest hint that he felt defensive. "And I figured there had to be someone in the coalition who wanted them shaving their legs."

The giggles sounded suspiciously like laughter now.

"This is all very therapeutic," Ford turned in his seat to face O'Neill, "and I'm glad to hear that we can still laugh about these things. However, you might want to get them off of the walkie-talkies before we get caught."

"Aye, sir," Tim addressed the crewmembers over the bioscanner once more. "OK, ladies, tune back in at 0200 hours so I can take down your designations and locations."

"Thanks, Tim!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Will do!"

Once the chorus of sign-offs died out, Tim shook his head with a small smile. "You outdid yourself, Ben. I was really worried that you wouldn't be able to distribute enough walkie-talkies on such short notice."

"It won't be a problem that they're all the, uh, female crewmembers?" Krieg asked, knowing that his question was going to be taken as politically incorrect – but he felt it was necessary to confirm that no further action was necessary at the moment. "It might be suspicious if I try to distribute something to male crewmembers right away."

"I don't think that will be a problem," Tim smiled at Ben's discomfort with the question.

"Maybe an advantage," Ford mused, looking over his notes. "Look, Ben, do we have confirmation that Lucas is in any imminent danger?"

"Commander?" The voice over the bioscanner changed. "It's Captain Bridger."

"Captain," Jonathan pulled his chair over so he could speak more directly into the bioscanner that O'Neill held. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Bridger responded. "And I want to let you know that Lucas is fine, too. Although his quarters are in very bad shape, rumors of his torture have been greatly exaggerated."

Both Tim and Jonathan sighed deeply, breaking into relieved grins at that news.

"Excellent, sir," Ford sounded pleased and far more relaxed than he'd been at any point since the takeover of the boat. "You saw him?"

"I spoke with him; he's doing well and there isn't a mark on him."

"Thank God," Tim breathed. Jonathan shot him a sympathetic smile, affirming and acknowledging the anxiety of the communications officer for the first time.

"That gives us some more time, then," Ford got back down to business quickly. "I'd like to see what this new level of communication allows us to do before we make a move."

"As much as I'd like to end this situation tonight," Bridger responded, "I have to agree. We should have as much information as possible before doing anything."

&

"So they're moving me out this evening," Crocker reported to Katie, his disappointment evident. "Back into group quarters with some of my security ensigns; they managed to work out the accommodations. Do you think you'll be able to hook the rest of this up yourself?" The security chief gestured toward the increasingly complex array of wiring and patching and cobbled pieces of communications equipment that they had managed to smuggle in when Crocker was escorted to and from his onboard responsibilities.

"I can't hold the transceiver and calibrate the interference filter at the same time," Hitchcock answered in dismay. Would they have to scrap the whole project when they were so close to succeeding? "I wouldn't be able to hold a conversation for more than a few moments before I'd lose the signal."

"Well," Crocker stared at the mess of electronics before taking a deep breath, "then we'll have to finish up right now. We have at least two hours, and then we should be able to contact anyone you want in the UEO. We have all the codes we should need, so why not?"

"You do realize how much work we would have to do," Katie's mind raced as she dared to consider the plan. They had anticipated the project taking at least two more days, and that was at a relatively quick pace. "If we pull it all out of the bulkhead, we might be able to do it."

The two had found their efforts hampered as the project grew and grew – it simply was not possible to build a long-range communications system off of the main power systems with scraps and stolen pieces – _and_ to do so efficiently. It resembled, for all intents and purposes, an early computer. A very visible computer. So, in order to camouflage their work, the two had made the sacrifice of wedging the components behind the bulkhead and constructing their system awkwardly and piecemeal.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Crocker grinned. "If the choice is between getting caught or not getting through to the UEO at all… I say, let's go down in flames."

Taking a deep breath, Katie stood up. She pushed a transmitting microphone that she had been rewiring to work both for transmitting and receiving off of her lap, grasped the panel behind which their project was hidden, and nodded firmly at the security chief. "Flames it is."

&


	8. Chapter 8

Adapt

Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own!

Author's Note: OK, here's the deal… I am in the middle of the craziest period in my life so far. It may not lighten up, but I will be writing! Expect a slow-but-steady pace; I will finish the story, and I'm sorry to have been MIA for so long!!! Thanks for following up, friends!

And… enjoy!

&&&&&

"Give me a break," Tollman reached over to tap Lucas on the shoulder. "You know as well as I do that Ortiz could take Ford in a fight."

"I'm serious," Lucas responded, raising an eyebrow at his companion. They were drinking tea on the bridge, relaxing after having spent hours trying to locate the single duffel of spare uniforms that had been misplaced when the terrorists had boarded seaQuest. "Commander Ford is pretty tough."

"But Ortiz is stronger," Tollman shook his head at Lucas' maintained support of the commander, "it's pretty obvious from looking at him."

"Nope," Lucas shook his head, beginning to smile as he pictured the two sparring. "The commander would win every time, Tollman."

"Hey, you called me Tollman."

"Yeah," Lucas looked at Tollman over his tea. "That's your name."

"You just haven't called me by it before." Tollman lifted his mug as well. "Thanks."

"Whatever." Lucas wasn't sure if he should be proud of himself or not; it was strange being praised by his captor. Or, as Tollman had instructed him to think of him, his _bodyguard_.

"Kind of like me calling you Lucas," Tollman prompted further.

"OK, OK," Lucas responded, getting annoyed. It had meant more to him than he wanted to admit when the terrorists had started calling him by his first name. It had been weeks since he'd been renamed "Wolenczak" and he had longed to hear his first name again – the way his crew referred to him. "I get it. I'll call you Tollman."

Tollman's mug hid his grin.

"So, Lucas, I think that uniform suits you-," Tollman observed Lucas' uncomfortable glance downward and was reassured that this next tactic was warranted. "But I'm beginning to wonder if it's really all I've said it is."

"What do you mean?" Lucas unconsciously mimicked Tollman's movement of a moment ago, lifting his mug strategically as his features betrayed suspicion, curiosity, and the tiniest sliver of wishful hope. Lucas' tone betrayed nothing, flatly imitating a teenager's boredom in the face of an adult musing aloud.

"Well," Tollman leaned forward slightly, and was gratified to find that this new role he had decided to take on suited his temperament much better than acting as a "slow and steady presence" that wore down Lucas' reservations about helping the coalition. Tollman was already getting into this new role in earnest, and it felt both natural and _relieving_ after all the pressure to unite with his comrades against the captives. Unity had never been Tollman's strongest suit. "I joined this coalition a few years ago," Tollman referred to the story he had already told the young man, "and it certainly hasn't been exactly what I expected at all times. But I guess I thought I had been the one who needed to learn, and that the coalition had a lot to teach. I justified things in my mind. And I justified you in my head, too, as a necessary sacrifice – I thought that pressuring you, against my wishes and better judgment, was justifiable because of all the good it would do in the end. All the good that you would do in the end. But I guess I'm rethinking that. Maybe there are limits to doing good, and maybe the coalition has gone past them this time. Or even other times as well, and I just haven't seen clearly enough to call it what it was."

Lucas stared at his "bodyguard," not sure how to take this sudden reversal. At this point, it had been four weeks. Four weeks of stress levels so high that he had found himself cracking – and each self-repair seemed less able to hold up to the continued pressure from his situation, captors, and the conspicuous absence of his friends. That Tollman had been unaffected by the same situation seemed unlikely, and this Lucas acknowledged instantly and hopefully, but the teenager was still loath to believe that the terrorist had come all the way to acknowledging the coalition's wrongdoing and deciding to help his captive. 'Even if he regrets all this,' Lucas assessed, 'there's no way he's going to do anything that might get him in trouble with the coalition.'

"I want to help you," Tollman interrupted Lucas' stunned reaction. "I realized, seeing you in uniform – that wearing that uniform doesn't mean being complicit in everything. You are resistant, and you can change – _are_ changing – things for the coalition. One person at a time, you and I can work from the inside and maybe even bring resolution to this situation."

"Uh," Lucas stuttered quickly, wanting to respond in some way but having no words. "Really? I mean, seriously?"

'I am going to rot in hell,' Tollman thought in a vain attempt to quash the pleasure that began to show through his affected contrite expression. 'I am definitely going to rot in hell.' Managing a smile, pretending relief at Lucas' apparent acceptance of his "apology," Tollman nodded with what he suspected was exactly the right amount of sincerity.

"Let's get you home, kid," Tollman reached over to clap Lucas on the shoulder.

'I _am_ home,' Lucas thought instinctively, rebelliously. 'I mean --,' Lucas considered the hand on his shoulder, reassessing it as an ally and not a threat. 'Well… I guess that's exactly what I mean – I am home. Now we just need to free the others. Maybe then this will end and things will all go back to normal.'

"How can— I mean, what should we – where do we start?" Lucas stuttered, his mind racing his voice and winning easily.

"Just be yourself," Tollman reassured Lucas, "I have a plan. I'll let you know when to act. In the meantime, just keep doing what you do. Gaining any more allies can only help."

"Okay," Lucas agreed. "Okay, sure – what's your plan?"

"Well," Tollman set down his tea and leaned forward to impart the plan he had worked out with Simmons the night before. This should ensure that Lucas cooperated in all the essential ways they needed, and they would just have to make it on their own once the teenager realized that he'd been played. Hopefully he would believe in this alliance long enough for the most vital of the boat's systems to be brought online and for the coalition to get a toehold on the programming that had been so disrupted by their virus. "Here's what I was thinking…"

&&&&&

"Why are we being brought to the bridge?" Kristin Westphalen demanded, thinking anxiously of the latest word circulated via walkie-talkie on the ship. Katie and Crocker had managed to contact the UEO, and while they hadn't been caught, it had been a near enough thing that they'd been separated and assigned personal guards around the clock. The only word from the UEO, at least as far as O'Neill had been able to gather, was that they didn't know what to do and didn't want Lucas working with the terrorists under any circumstances. 'Which makes two of us,' Kristin thought harshly, furious with the lack of assistance the UEO had been able to offer the crew over the staggering four weeks they had been held captive.

"I don't know," Perkins answered honestly. "Does it really matter?"

"It has been a while since we've been 'summoned,'" Bridger spoke nervously for Kristin. He had come to the conclusion that the coalition found it too distasteful to blackmail a teenager by threatening his captain – but surely distaste could be overlooked after four weeks of dealing with a thoroughly uncooperative Lucas. Bridger did not like this new development at all.

They arrived at the clam doors, and Kristin found herself holding her breath as the doors opened. The ship had never seemed so powerful as it had over the past few weeks, when seaQuest was entirely outside of the crew's control.

The quiet, unassuming Simmons appeared before them as the clam doors rose to admit the hostage captain and doctor to the fully manned bridge.

"Captain Bridger," Simmons welcomed Nathan formally and warmly as he had done on the prior occasion he had spoken with the captain (shortly after taking possession of the ship, for recruitment purposes), and Bridger felt his skin crawl in reaction to the courtesy. "So good to see you. We are conducting some of your crew around the ship for a motivational tour today, and I had hoped to speak with you for a few moments about Ortiz, who has agreed to work with us under some rather creative conditions that involve your cooperation…"

Bridger shot Dr. Westphalen a split-second glance to confirm that this was still reality and that the Miguel he knew would never agree to help the coalition under any circumstances. Kristin's openly hostile, challenging posture confirmed that the earth was still turning on its axis, and Bridger quickly began acting strategically to gain more information about why the terrorist would lie about Miguel – and what Simmons was really after.

At that moment Redding came stalking onto the bridge, herding a resistant Lucas before him.

"So fix it already," Redding snarled.

"No," Lucas fairly shouted in frustration, his face flushed by exertion and irritation. "You need to just feed Darwin."

"Fix the access tubes and then he can hunt for himself; I'm not doing you any favors, boy." Redding spoke poisonously, but quietly in the presence of Simmons.

'Oh, no,' Bridger sensed that this had been staged for his benefit. They were going to push Lucas around in front of him "accidentally" and use that as leverage. This routine was getting old, but with renewed fear Bridger wondered if this would be the time when things escalated into violence.

"Redding!" Tollman sprang across the Bridge at the sight of his charge. "Hey, go feed the fish and leave the kid to me." Tollman positioned his bulk between Redding and Lucas, daring the other terrorist to argue with him. Simmons remained silent, watching the events unfold, but was clearly prepared to intercede if things got out of hand.

Redding spun on his heel and left the bridge as angrily as he'd entered it, but he had clearly been cowed both by the presence of Simmons and by Tollman's obviously confident defense of the youth.

As the clam doors shut, Tollman shot Lucas a frustrated glance even as he ran his eyes over the teenager for marks of abuse from the notoriously violent member of the coalition. "The tubes aren't functioning?" Tollman asked once he'd ascertained that Lucas was none the worse for his encounter with Redding. "And why was he with you? I left you with Giorno."

"Giorno went to help someone with an aquatube. Yeah, they're not working." Lucas sighed, releasing some of his frustration at Redding. Yes, he and Tollman had manufactured a 'scene' to keep the coalition from catching on to their alliance – but being left alone with the sadistic Redding was something Lucas had definitely hoped to avoid. And why was Bridger here to witness their scene? Lucas hesitated, but Tollman fed him his cue insistently.

"Giorno in an aquatube…" Tollman shook his head with a grin, and Lucas had to smile, sharing the taller man's amusement at the idea of his Italian compatriot in the water. He had a strong aversion to getting his hands dirty or his feet wet, and was one of the more vocal people Lucas had ever met.

Lucas almost felt guilty when both Bridger and Dr. Westphalen seemed immediately to fixate on his smile with confusion and resentment.

"So," Tollman asked Lucas significantly, gesturing to a nearby console, "are you going to give it a try?"

"Look," Lucas recited his spiel carefully, hoping that Bridger was reassured – and, as he and Tollman had planned, that this scene would plant seeds in the minds of all the other coalition members on the bridge. "I know you claim to have pretty much the same goals as Captain Bridger…"

Tollman listened to Lucas act, fascinated by the boy's ability to convince even the captain and doctor. It almost made him wonder if the boy was genuinely working with him, or if the teenager was a triple agent of sorts. As much as Tollman enjoyed his role of faux defector from the coalition, the ease with which he had assumed it had begun to give him a few second thoughts. Did he feel so at home trashing his coalition because he truly had the doubts he was voicing? Was he really, in actuality, the defector he claimed was only a disguise? One meant only to fool Lucas into fixing the computers – and hopefully to pressure Bridger into picking up where the teenager, no doubt, would leave off at some point? Listening to Lucas, Tollman decided that it didn't matter at the moment. He was acting the part, and it didn't matter if he felt more at home in a role than in his own skin – he'd have time to sort it all out later.

"I've told you exactly what our goals are," Tollman responded to Lucas' speech. He continued on, delivering his lines with all the frustration and passion of the unresolved questions in his mind.

Lucas listened to Tollman deliver his lines, and his last doubts about the terrorist dissolved. 'He's really doing this,' Lucas marveled. 'Finally, I have an ally in this mess.' Stealing a glance at Captain Bridger's haunted features, Lucas knew in his heart that this breakthrough was none too soon. Lucas allowed his worry for Bridger to come through in his voice when he delivered his last line:

"People in trouble need _your_ help," Lucas countered passionately. "They need you to give the SeaQuest back to Captain Bridger so that I can get the systems back up and the ship's _real_ crew can continue its mission."

As the two squared off in dramatic silence, Simmons prepared himself to interrupt the moment smoothly and segue into the conversation he hoped to have with Bridger.

Tollman grabbed Lucas' shoulder, shook the boy lightly and with affection, and he guided him 'offstage' as it were – toward the console they had been considering.

"Don't touch him!" Kristin cried out suddenly, startling herself as much as those around her.

In that moment, the bridge went dark.

&&&&&

"Life support is out!" Ford crowed triumphantly from his bunk. "Time to move, O'Neill!"

"Are you _happy_ about this?" Tim stumbled toward the weapons locker, having been instructed and drilled on the most efficient movements in the event that the inevitable ship systems' breakdown should reach this point. Flashlight, weapon, and then move toward the main detention areas. But Ford's exultation at what was most likely a death sentence disturbed Tim deeply even as he went through the motions of their plan.

"Things are going to reverse, Tim," In the glow of the flashlight O'Neill turned on, Ford's eyes fairly glowed with the intensity of his pent up frustrations. "We are ready for them now."

"Okay," The lieutenant submitted; there were more important things to worry about right now than the potential that Ford had become unhinged by his lengthy detention. O'Neill moved lightly to the door and waited as Ford preceded him down the hall – just as they'd discussed, and with almost musical precision.

"Freeze," A voice commanded the two from behind.

They froze.

"Commander Hitchcock?" Tim ventured in a whisper. "Is that you?"

"Tim!" Commander Katie Hitchcock immediately lowered her stolen coalition weapon, coming up in the dark corridor to stand in the beam of Tim's flashlight.

"Katie, thank heavens," Commander Ford greeted his crewmate. "We'll need you to take the third detention area, on E Deck."

"Yes, sir," Katie immediately fell in, hearing Ford's unspoken subtext that this was an order. "And, sir, this is a temporary blackout. We have one hour before the UEO takes the seaQuest out for good. I worked this out with Noyce when I managed to contact him; it's a temporary short, but the terrorists don't know that because, with all the boat's systems down, it's impossible to detect and respond to an electrical depth shock."

"Good work, Katie," Ford smiled at the commander in an attempt to reassure her that she had done well and that her course of action had been appropriate. Unfortunately, it sounded more like he was ferally enjoying the idea of destroying anything – be it the seaQuest, the coalition, or both.

"He's been fine," Tim hurried to reassure Katie when she shot him a quick, concerned glance. "At least, I think he's fine."

"Let's move," Jonathan clearly had no patience for analysis at this moment. "We have to do this perfectly. Move out."

&&&&&

"The main power is out?" Miguel had been roused from sleep by Perkins. "And you think_ I_ can fix it? Are you insane?"

"Come on, Ortiz, if you don't do something now then you'll be left here when the coalition abandons ship."

That was sobering, but Miguel had already done some math on the topic. "There are plenty of pods to evacuate a whole lot more than just the coalition."

"You want to be stuck here deciding who gets to go?"

He had a point.

"Got an interface that isn't charred?" Miguel asked with a sigh. "We've got about an hour before people start panicking if backup systems don't kick in. We'd better hurry."

&&&&&

I hope you all enjoyed! The ending approacheth! It's been fun, and I'm hoping to write more now that the semester from hell has ended… What a ride! Thanks for the continued encouragement and lack of angry "hurry up" messages. I hope I'm writing up to expectations!

Sincerely,

Hari


	9. Chapter 9

Adapt

Chapter Nine

Enjoy!

&&&&&

"Fix it!" Simmons had grabbed Lucas by the back of his neck and was jamming the teenager's face against a nonfunctioning console that was lit only by the battery-operated lantern Tollman held above the proceedings.

Westphalen and Bridger were being restrained as the coalition leader focused one last-ditch effort on the teenager who supposedly could, but would not, save the ship and its occupants.

"Do you not understand that we'll be evacuating and leaving you and your crew here to drown? You need to fix this now! We need this ship!" Simmons was fast becoming enraged beyond any measure the coalition would have expected from their mild-mannered leader. Clearly he, too, had felt the strain of policing the boat – and his own men. The thought of losing it all, and losing the crew of seaQuest as a necessary casualty, was more than the man could countenance.

"Suffocate," Lucas managed to gasp out between his panicky breaths as the large terrorist manhandled him. "We wouldn't drown."

"You think those tubes were closed when the pressure seals went dark?" Simmons' laugh came out more manically than he'd expected it to. "You'll drown."

"Oh," Lucas responded.

"That means-," Tollman looked from Lucas' terrorized and betrayal-stricken face to Simmons' desperate, furious expression. "We don't have much time to evacuate."

"No kidding," Simmons gritted out. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and lashed Lucas to a supporting brace beneath the console. "Fix it or drown, then."

Simmons gestured to the coalition, who herded Westphalen and Bridger out of the room and they hurried toward the docking area.

Tollman did not look back at Lucas, who was eerily silent as the bridge emptied around him.

&&&&&

"I can't do anything with this," Miguel shrugged. "And we're standing in water. This isn't working, and we definitely don't have an hour."

"Ooooh, man," Perkins moaned. Considering Miguel's words for a moment, he made a decision. "This has been one long disaster. Follow me and we'll salvage as much as we can."

"What?" Miguel had to run to catch up when the terrorist dashed out of the engineering interface area.

The two men sprinted together until they reached Perkins' de facto quarters.

"Take this uniform and put it on," Perkins pressed a jumpsuit into Miguel's hands and began to ransack the small room. The water was one level below them at the moment, filling the lowest level of the ship, and both were painfully aware that the docking area was only a deck above them. There was not much time to effect a covert evacuation. "I've only got three more uniforms."

"It will have to do," Miguel hadn't attempted to put on the jumpsuit. "That makes four people we can get out of here."

"Ortiz," Perkins protested, "We may not even find anyone else in time. Put it on."

"I'm going down with the ship," Miguel responded firmly. "Now take me to Lucas and let's make sure he's on the first transport out of here."

"The bridge?" Perkins shrugged helplessly. "I don't know if he's still there."

"It's a place to start. Let's go."

&&&&&

Katie and Tim burst into opposite ends of the largest detainment area simultaneously.

"Follow him!" Commander Hitchcock quickly ordered the disoriented group of scientists her flashlight revealed. "O'Neill is at the other door and taking people to safety."

"Katie?" Ben's voice rang out over confused questions and noise in the room. "Katie? Way to go!"

"Thanks, Ben – keep these people safe!" The Commander spared a quick grin for the indomitable voice of support from the otherwise confused crew. "Take them with Tim and back him up!"

"Will do!" Ben laughed triumphantly and infectiously, helping those nearest him to navigate the very dark room toward Tim's dim source of light. The mood in the room instantly began to lighten into one of hope and optimism.

Katie ducked back out of the room, cursing the absence of Crocker. If she had gotten him locked in solitary confinement due to their conspiracy, then it might be a while before she could find him – and rumor had it that the aquatubes had frozen open when the power cut out. That meant they had to evacuate people to the highest decks of the ship and jury rig a solution before they all drowned waiting for the UEO to jumpstart the ship's systems. Leading crewmembers into any form of conflict in the docking area was unthinkable, Katie had unilaterally decided when she found out about the aquatubes, and so they had to do what they could without considering full evacuation as an option.

'I have to find him,' Katie frowned deeply. 'I got him into this, and I will get him out of it.' She began searching, corridor by corridor, praying that nobody would notice her absence and be so foolish as to potentially trap themselves in a rapidly submerging deck by trying to find her.

&&&&&

Lucas stood motionless on the bridge, trying to wrap his traumatized mind around his predicament and to decide on a course of action. Gazing down at the powerless console, Lucas shook his head and considered in vain whether he should have helped fight the virus when he'd had a chance.

"Lucas!"

The teenager spun around awkwardly, favoring his left wrist in its metal cuff, and came face to face with a breathless Tollman.

"You were lying – using me --," Lucas accused angrily, instinctively backing into the console. "You turned on me."

"I, uh," Tollman knew Lucas was right, but he also knew that halfway to the docking area he'd found himself back in the role of Lucas' secret coconspirator. And he had come back. "I think I was lying the truth."

"What?" Lucas watched expressions cross Tollman's face and decided once and for all that Tollman was mentally unstable. "You should go. Go evacuate with the others." Lucas began to fight the handcuffs as Tollman stepped toward him.

"I want to save you, Lucas," Tollman spoke again, his tone inappropriately light and breezy. "Come on, you can evacuate with me."

In a moment Lucas was uncuffed and being hustled down a corridor toward the stairwell that led toward the docking bay.

"Help!" Lucas called out, trying to fight the terrorist in the semidarkness that was illumined only by a military-issue glow stick attached to Tollman's uniform. "Captain! Ben! Anyone! It's Lucas! Help me!"

"They're going to die; we have to go." Tollman didn't slow down as he grabbed Lucas around the waist and threw him over his shoulder. They descended the stairs rapidly.

Lucas was pinned against Tollman's shoulder, facing downwards as they descended the metal stairs. He could see below them for a few feet, and as they descended he realized that the green glow emanating from Tollman's uniform was reflecting back from rising water a couple of decks below them.

"We can't go to the docking bay!" Lucas shouted as they descended quickly toward the water. "It's flooded!"

Lucas could tell that the water had only begun to seep onto the docking bay's deck, but he prayed that Tollman wouldn't realize that – Lucas had to get to the crew and help. Help save the seaQuest, and help the others survive.

"What?" Tollman stopped their descent a deck above the docking bay. "We're too late! I'll have to get us some scuba gear. Wait here."

"What?" Lucas didn't manage to protest or even realize what Tollman meant before it was too late.

The terrorist left the teenager cuffed to the stairs and headed off in search of breathing apparatus.

"Oh God, _help!_" Lucas howled up the stair shaft even as he found himself left in pitch blackness, in a rapidly flooding section of the boat.

&&&&&

"Ben!" Security Chief Crocker called through the door of his cell. He could hear the loud, enthusiastic leader of the newly freed hostages as he hastened through the boat's mid levels. "Ben, can you hear me?"

"Crocker?" Both Ben and Tim hurried to investigate.

"We'll have you out in no time!" Ben quickly began working on the door as Tim took advantage of the momentary pause and walkie-talkied the few who still had access to their handsets at this point.

The security chief was delighted when the door opened to reveal a somewhat organized crowd of scientists and military crewmembers proceeding toward the bridge and upper levels of the boat.

"You've done it!" Crocker beamed. "Commander Hitchcock did it! It worked!"

"It sure did," A grinning Jonathan Ford rounded a corner at that moment and joined the group in the corridor. "We just need to jury rig the ballast to repressurize the aquatubes until power is restored. Where's Lucas?"

"Good question; the bridge?" O'Neill ventured.

"Let's find out," Ford nodded his assent.

The group continued on its way through the darkened corridors toward their destination.

&&&&&

On the bridge, Miguel and Perkins were regrouping.

"It's too late to get to the docking bay," Miguel stated. "We need another plan. They must have taken Lucas with them; we need to focus on the rest of the crew."

"They're on the lower decks," Perkins nodded toward the now-sealed clam doors. "Maybe if we got them up here and sealed the bridge off?"

"That would work, but we need a non-systems oxygen source too," Miguel mused. "You gather all the oxygen masks and tanks you can find – look in the storage area one deck down from here. I'm going after the crew."

"Aye," Perkins responded automatically.

Miguel grabbed a flashlight and gave Perkins a quick nod of acknowledgment before the two split up in the corridor.

&&&&&

Ford was the first to reach the bridge.

"Freeze! Perkins, isn't it?" Ford leveled his weapon at Perkins, who backed quickly away from the pile he'd been assembling of breathing equipment.

"Yes, I'm helping Ortiz – he's looking for you. The plan is to seal off the bridge and buy time to try to kickstart the seaQuest," Perkins quickly rattled off the plan. "Help me bring more oxygen from below."

"Nobody else is around," O'Neill quickly offered Ford confirmation. "He wouldn't be here if that wasn't at least close to the truth."

Ford nodded brusquely. "Let's get the oxygen up here, then. Where's Katie?"

"She went after the other-," Ben did a quick double take. "Who are the other hostages, anyway? Almost everyone's here."

"Lucas, Bridger, and Westphalen, to start with," Ford grimaced. "But they could be anywhere. That was not part of the plan."

"What do we do about her?" Tim looked to Ford automatically for orders.

"Nothing," Jonathan sighed. "She'll have to make it on her own, or maybe Miguel will find her, but nobody's leaving this bridge until we have it secured. And we're going to need everyone here to do that."

Everyone turned to Ford in a unified argumentative and accusatory stare.

"Come on," Ford responded to the mob sentiment. "Let's get this place ready for them when they get here."

Tim reacted first, obediently turning to Perkins. "Lead on."

&&&&&

Lucas had slumped into a defeated sitting position a few minutes after having been left alone in the dark, but when the water began to lap at his legs as they sprawled over the lower steps, he had quickly stood up. Now he waited in horror as the water began to lap at his calves.

"Tim?" A voice echoed faintly down the stairwell to Lucas. "Captain Bridger?"

"MIGUEL!" Lucas bellowed with all his strength. "Miguel, it's Lucas! I'm trapped in the stairwell!"

"Lucas?" Miguel's voice sounded still fainter. "Dr. Westphalen?"

"MIGUEL!" Lucas screamed. "Don't leave me here!" The water seemed to freeze his knees as it rose around him.

"Tollman?" Miguel's voice suddenly sounded closer, but this time it was a direct question and not a shout. "What are you-,"

"Up there," Tollman said urgently, pointing Miguel away from Lucas. "I-I left him up there. He's hurt."

"Miguel!!!" Lucas called desperately, realizing that Tollman was sending his friend away. "Help me!"

"What?" Miguel sounded terribly confused, and Lucas tried to guess whether he was two or three decks above the rapidly rising water. It reached Lucas' hips now, and he was beginning to despair that Miguel would get past Tollman in time.

Suddenly footsteps began to pound down toward him through the darkness, and a light began to grow on the stairs.

"I suckerpunched him, Lucas, keep talking!" Miguel dashed down the stairs at breakneck speed. "He's going to get back up, don't make me search for you!"

Lucas sobbed once with relief and quickly began calling up to his friend.

"I'm right here – on the stairs! Help me, the water's coming up above my waist!"

Miguel rounded the last corner and appeared just above Lucas.

"Handcuffs," Miguel stated flatly. "Let's see what we can do about that, huh? There's got to be an easy way to get those off."

"Are you just talking to calm me down because you don't know what to do?" Lucas demanded, holding his hands as high as he could, which was barely above the water's surface.

"Don't panic," Miguel answered straightforwardly, sensing that this was not a moment to finesse, "but yeah, I may need some help on this one. Any ideas?" The older seaman grasped Lucas' wrists and examined the cuffs. "I don't have anything that will cut metal, I definitely don't have the keys, and I didn't bring a weapon."

"Tollman!"

Both Miguel and Lucas started at the sound of an angry cry above them in the stairwell.

"Commander?" Lucas called.

"Commander Hitchcock?!" Miguel joined Lucas and the two of them began shouting up the stairs.

"Quiet down, will you?" Katie chuckled in desperate relief as she sprinted down the stairs toward the two. "I took him out; you two can come up now."

"Lucas is cuffed to the railing," Miguel informed Katie quickly. "I've got nothing to cut through metal."

"The water-," Lucas stopped himself from compulsively stating the obvious as the water crept up on his shoulders.

"I've got it," Katie snapped into action and pushed Miguel back a step through the deep water. "I could have just shot through it, but underwater…" Katie mused aloud. She reached into a small pocket on her belt and pulled out a jagged piece of metal left over from her decimated cot. "Lucas, you may have to hold your breath for a few seconds, but I promise that I'm not going to leave you here."

Katie spared Lucas one level, reassuring glance before reaching for his wrists.

"My breath?" Lucas gasped out, but managed to calm himself enough to surrender his wrists to the commander.

Katie went to work on the cuffs while Miguel grasped Lucas' now-submerged shoulders tightly. "You'll be OK," Miguel whispered to the quivering teenager. Lucas felt tears roll down his face as his helplessness and the proximity of his friends struck him hard after such a long separation. "You'll be OK, Lucas."

Katie could feel the cuffs' complicated lock begin to tumble, but she knew that it could still be another minute before she got it to release entirely. If Lucas began to thrash, it might become impossible. Looking up from her struggle in the dark for a moment, she saw by the shaky light of Miguel's flashlight that Lucas was going to lose the ability to breathe in another few seconds.

"Grab him and hold him, Miguel," Katie ordered. "Don't let him move too much, OK?"

Lucas instinctively began to fight at those words, feeling the water move over his upturned face and registering his body's inability to move above the surface – and Miguel's arms suddenly turning from supportive to restrictive.

Miguel gasped for his own breath as he held his friend under the water. Or, he corrected his thought, the handcuffs held Lucas under and Miguel held him still – to save his life. As he tried to remind himself why he was restraining his struggling, drowning friend, the cuffs released and he stumbled backward, pulling Lucas above the water's surface.

"Lucas! Are you all right?" Katie immediately grasped Lucas' chin and tried to assess his condition in the low, flickering light.

Lucas coughed, breathed deeply, and found he had no words to respond with.

"Never mind," Miguel gripped Lucas firmly, feeling the teen's whole body convulsing with the effort he was putting into gasping for air. "Let's just get up to the bridge."

The three hurried out of the water and began climbing the stairs toward the bridge. Miguel tried to support Lucas, but the younger crewmember quickly broke away and led the other two up the stairs. Katie took advantage of this when they passed Tollman's body – she was able to point it out to Miguel without Lucas seeing her gesture down the corridor at the corpse.

Miguel saw the body, and mimicked a gun discharging; Katie nodded. Score one for having stolen a lethal weapon from the coalition, she thought darkly.

They both hurried after the teen, sobered and too traumatized to exult in their victories just yet. The boat was still sinking, and it was possible that they had only delayed Lucas' drowning for another twenty minutes or so. The water was rising faster and faster as the boat sank into deeper waters and higher pressures.

They kept climbing.

&&&&&

This story is amazingly almost finished! Thank you so much for the kind reviews!

-Hari


	10. Chapter 10

Adapt

Chapter Ten

My stories tend to unravel in a relatively unpredictable manner, so it's kind of strange to find this one ending relatively where I thought it would end… If a little later than I expected it to be finished! So, here is the conclusion: enjoy!

&&&&&

"This would have been more effective on seaQuest," Kristin said darkly, brandishing her shotgun threateningly at the now-subdued members of the coalition who had been on the same evacuation pod as she and Captain Bridger. "Don't you think?"

"We should have time to get back to the crew," Bridger answered, his desperation clear in his voice. "We have to have time to get to them."

The two had realized that they had no choice but to stage a two-person rebellion when they saw the coalition launching empty escape pods to prevent the seaQuest crew from escaping the sinking boat. The decision to wait until they had better odds, once they were sealed in a pod with fewer enemies, had been Bridger's call.

"Well, if we'd done this weeks ago-," Kristin heard herself snapping at Nathan. She knew it was useless, counterproductive, and likely not even valid, but she could not control herself at this moment when she thought of the rest of the crew, stranded on the sinking submarine. She broke off and settled for waving her weapon around some more, relishing the fear on the faces of the six coalition members on the pod.

"Kristin, that's a lethal weapon," Bridger said slowly, hoping to calm her down before someone got shot.

"I know," Dr. Westphalen sighed as she her nervous energy began to dissipate. Now she felt less out of control than simply furious and highly motivated. "Funny, isn't it, that they're now facing lethal weapons simply because they chose to use them against us."

"Certainly," Captain Bridger 'yesed' the doctor absently as he began securing the prisoners in the back of the pod. "Now, should we go back, or can we do more good for the crew from outside the seaQuest?"

"Well, it would help if we knew which systems were the last to give way," Kristin responded, channeling her anger and frustration into this more productive avenue. "Do you think the cause for the blackout could have been external?"

"Oh, yes," Nathan pointed out the front hatch after he turned from securing the last prisoner in a makeshift detention area in the rear of the shuttle. "I do believe it was."

"My God," Kristin breathed, looking out toward the seaQuest – and the large UEO submarine that was following its descent slowly, apparently biding its time and waiting for a signal to move in.

&&&&&

"We have to go after them," Ben Krieg paced in front of the still-open clam doors, refusing to seal them against the water that they knew was rising exponentially quicker than it had been even minutes before. "I'll go alone; seal the doors behind me, and I'll… I don't know… knock loudly when I get back or something. I'll take a rebreather, and-,"

"Absolutely not," Commander Ford strode across the bridge to address the officer. "You're not going anywhere. If they are alive, then they will be here before the water. If not, then I don't want you joining them. We have almost two hundred people on this bridge, and they need you here, Krieg."

"Then let me go, sir," Crocker stepped up beside Krieg. "I feel responsible-,"

"You're not." Commander Hitchcock's voice rang out from the clam doors.

The officers spun to see Katie follow Lucas and Miguel onto the bridge.

"You're alive!" Commander Ford bounded forward with uncharacteristic glee. He grasped Hitchcock's forearms briefly, grinning, and then scooped Lucas up in a hug.

"We're fine, Commander," Miguel grinned at Ford over Lucas' wet hair. "He's fine, too, although he's pretty cold. He was in the water for a while."

"What happened?" Crocker demanded, looking Katie over for any injuries that might be attributable to his own negligence to go after her sooner.

"We just had to find Lucas," Ortiz explained. "He takes a lot of looking after."

Ford finally released Lucas and took a better look at him in the increased light of multiple lanterns on the crowded bridge. "You're all right, Lucas?"

"I'll be fine, sir," Lucas looked up at the commander. "Where's Captain Bridger?"

"We don't know, Lucas," Commander Ford admitted.

"Oh," Lucas looked over at the clam doors. "We should probably seal those, though. The water's only a level or so below us."

Even as Lucas spoke, the first trickle of water slid over the floor.

"That's it, then," Ford, O'Neill and Krieg snapped into action. Ortiz and Perkins quickly joined them in forcing the clam doors into a closed position. They began sealing it as best they could with the few tools they'd been able to locate.

"Can we hold out for another fifteen minutes?" Katie asked, consulting her timepiece anxiously. They were now crushed into the bridge like sardines, and had just cut off the last of their air supply.

"We have oxygen," Perkins gestured at the supply that now looked incredibly meager in comparison to the large crew that perched on consoles and stood against the walls of the bridge. "If the systems provide oxygen almost instantaneously when they're booted up, our supply should keep the crew from getting brain damage, wouldn't you say?"

"Um," Katie looked from Ford to O'Neill unsurely. "I'm not sure how long the system will take to come back up, and we'll need at least one person to work from within to restore the individual systems – such as life support."

"I guess we'll have to wait and find out," Ford sighed in resignation. "Tim, grab a rebreather for Lucas. He's our best shot at getting the systems up after the jumpstart."

"No!" Lucas protested instantly and violently. "Commander Hitchcock knows more about what they're doing. She should be the one."

"Lucas," Katie gave Ford a knowing glance and began speaking to the teenager. "You have been through a lot, and it has been important that you not touch the systems, but now _it's_ _okay_."

"I know that," Lucas responded, clearly shocked by his own vehemence, "But I _don't_ want to be the one."

Katie's mind raced as she reflected on what had just happened in the stairwell and how that was likely affecting Lucas' emotions. She had no idea what to say to the traumatized teen; for the moment she felt just as traumatized by the idea of watching her crewmates suffocate around her. Commander Hitchcock froze for a few moments as her thoughts became too complicated to sort out in the present situation.

The lights suddenly flickered on, briefly blinding everyone on the bridge before going dark again.

"Looks like you won't have to do it alone, Lucas," Miguel fairly sang out as he realized the implications of the power flicker, "but would you mind helping me boot the systems up?"

Lucas stared at the faintly glowing consoles in shock and wonder before responding to Miguel enthusiastically. "You bet!"

The crew quickly made room for the two to start working at the main life support interface.

"I'll get communications up," O'Neill called out, quickly moving toward his usual console. "Will the virus have survived the reboot, Lucas?"

"I have no idea," Lucas called back.

"Let's assume no," Ford directed, herding crewmembers out of the way so Katie could begin working to revive her own console. "If it is still in there, we're going to have even more problems than we can expect due to the hardware problems caused by the systems breakdown. Let's be positive; we can deal with the virus if and when we need to."

"Ah!" Miguel hopped backward as a shower of sparks emitted from his console. "Speaking of hardware problems… does anyone have a bobby pin and some non-conducting gel? I need to repair this cable."

"As a matter of fact," A young biochemist quickly made her way over to Miguel and Lucas, "I've got both. I was trying to repair a scanner when the lights went out. And I always have bobby pins."

Commander Ford surveyed the bridge and the crew critically and proudly. The seaQuest might not be salvageable, but this crew certainly was; they were going to survive.

&&&&&

Bridger waited anxiously as the seaQuest was brought into docking position for the third time. The navy had been forced to tow the unwieldy submarine to a refitting dock when it was discovered that, despite the apparent disappearance of the rogue virus, the propulsion systems had been damaged beyond any ability to patch it as sea. Moreover, with most of the ship inaccessible, the crew had been forced to work only from the bridge deck – though they had thankfully found that internal pressures on the boat had stabilized enough that they could open the clam doors and access the whole deck.

It had taken four days to tow the flagship of the UEO into dock. Four days in which the boat's entire crew was confined to one deck of the ship. If they hadn't been so jubilant and grateful for even that small freedom after their extended stint as hostages, Bridger reflected, they probably would have been at each other's throats. As it was, though, they had reacted as though they were having a huge sleepover. And every crewmember had individually called to thank Bridger and Westphalen for having the presence of mind to insist that the schedule be pushed up fifteen minutes on the rebooting of the ship's systems.

Lucas' call had been short and sweet: "Thanks for not making me save everyone again."

Bridger hadn't been able to keep the teenager on the line after he'd made that petulant statement, but he had a feeling they'd be having a long conversation after the seaQuest was finally evacuated for refitting.

"They'll be here any minute," Kristin exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement even as attempts to dock approached the two-hour mark with no assurance that this attempt would be any more successful than the last two. It was difficult, admirals had explained to an irate and impatient Bridger, to tow in any ship with the kind of precision needed in order to safely evacuate a crew from a deck that was not meant for any form of disembarking.

"I hope so," Bridger smiled at Kristin. "Hostile takeover or no, you and I got off easily."

"It was hardly hostile," Kristin raised an eyebrow at the captain. "You just threatened that one man, and I held a shotgun."

"You were definitely hostile," Bridger grinned, teasing the doctor. Since the crew had confirmed that everyone was fine and they were almost home, Bridger had become increasingly punchy. "You didn't think they surrendered because of me, did you?"

"Maybe because four of the six coalition members were pacifists?" Kristin ventured with a wry smile. The information they had received in debriefing had been both enlightening and humbling.

"I prefer to think it was because you were so fearsome," Bridger laughed. "But it does seem an awful oversight to assign hostages to a crew that is two-thirds pacifistic and fully armed, doesn't it?"

Admiral Noyce entered the observation room where the captain and doctor were watching the docking attempts.

"They've managed to dock it pretty well, and they're attempting to cut through the bulkhead now. Would you like to be there?" The admiral gestured for Kristin to precede him out of the room.

"They're here, Nathan!" Kristin indulged in one more exclamation of joy as they headed toward their crew.

Bridger grinned and quickly followed the doctor down the hallway and toward the docking area.

&&&&&

The bulkhead was finally cut through, and Bridger watched in fascination as technicians lifted a large piece from the upper hull above his bridge. It was disconcerting to suddenly have a surgical, distorted view of one's ship. But that thought was quickly banished from Bridger's mind when the first crewmember was hoisted from within the boat. A resounding cheer followed as the young botanist set foot on the steel of the docking bay floor.

Grinning, the botanist threw herself into the arms of a civilian gentleman who was clearly her significant other.

Suddenly curious, Bridger realized that there were many, many people in this docking bay – which made sense, since the whole world had been watching the situation unfold for a month. Family members, friends, and privileged members of the media were crowded into the oversized docking bay, each waiting for their loved one to emerge from the broken hull. Amazingly, there had been no casualties among the seaQuest crew, nor presumably among the coalition, save for Tollman. Two pods had escaped, and the rest had been brought in by the navy within a day of the evacuation. None of the family members would be waiting in vain today, Bridger realized. His involuntary smile grew still bigger.

Bridger watched anxiously for Lucas, knowing that his father was probably present, but hoping to reach the teenager first. There was a lot he wanted to say, and "sorry" was first on his list. However, the ship was gradually emptying, and Lucas was not to be seen.

"Of course," Kristin voiced Nathan's thought, "he'll be waiting with the senior officers until the last."

"Of course," Bridger echoed with a note of pride in his voice that masked his nervousness.

A few minutes later, a telltale blonde head emerged from the hole.

"Lucas!" Kristin dashed forward and she assisted the technicians who had been helping the crewmembers out.

Lucas grinned bashfully as he was abruptly smothered by much-craved affection.

"Lucas," Bridger waited more patiently for Kristin to release the teenager.

"Captain!" Lucas leapt into Bridger's proffered embrace, talking quickly. "I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Lucas," Bridger answered, surprised by the teen's sentiment, but eager to voice his own apology. "I'm so sorry for everything. I should have protected you."

"You did," Lucas assured him. "You saved me."

"Lucas!" Dr. Wolenczak insistently called to his son, who left his captain with only a longing glance behind him.

Kristin and Bridger watched Lucas jog over to his father, Bridger aching to say more to the youth – knowing that their exchange had only scratched the surface of the talks to come—, and then both refocused their attention on Katie, the woman of the hour, as she emerged with Crocker and Ford.

"There's one more man in there," Katie announced loudly. "Don't arrest him; he's with us. His name is Perkins, and he was instrumental to us surviving."

The crowd in the docking area reacted questioningly, and Perkins climbed out shamefacedly. The crowd gaped, many gasping and pointing when they saw his coalition uniform.

"I'm willing to stand trial," Perkins stated, gesturing in a placating manner to the angry people. "I know how serious this all was, and I take full responsibility for my complicity."

"I'm sure something can be worked out," Bridger responded, nodding significantly to Noyce. The admiral looked uncomfortable, but nodded in return.

"We're putting everyone up in a hotel locally until further notice," Noyce announced to the crewmembers. "We'll be serving dinner in the hotel restaurant for the next four hours, so find your way there at some point. We'll have some sort of longer-term arrangements set up for you then."

A cheer went up from the shower-deprived crew, and everyone began to filter toward the hotel.

"I'll be seeing to my team, then," Kristin addressed Nathan.

"I'll see to my senior officers," Nathan agreed. "Seven o'clock?"

"Perfect; I'll see you then," Kristin smiled at the captain. They had grown closer over the last four days, not to mention over the previous four weeks of working together, and it seemed anticlimactic to lose this intimacy now that the situation had improved. Both were relieved to see that the other felt the same way. What neither realized was that, while the situation on seaQuest was over, it was far from resolved.

&&&&&

"So then Lucas kicks his butt, and we just came down in time to see Tollman go down, and Katie instinctively shoots her firearm, totally forgetting that it's lethal, and-,"

"Seriously, Miguel?" O'Neill demanded. "And you expect me to believe that you fought off two tiger sharks at that depth?"

"They must have come in through the aquatubes," Miguel shrugged, then continued with wide-eyed innocence, "We know so little about the ocean, really."

Katie snickered to Lucas at the next table.

"Hey, that's how I remember it," Lucas defended Miguel's version of the story. "Much better than your version, which has me being threatened at gunpoint when you came along."

"The tiger sharks and all?" Katie grinned. "I'll never tell, you know that. As long as you tell your shrink."

"Already did," Lucas sighed. The entire crew had been given a mandatory two-week stay in the hotel they'd been put up in, including on-site counseling, debriefing, and activities.

"Good," Katie left it at that. They'd struck the bargain when Katie realized that Lucas had no intention of rehashing any of the events from the situation, and that nobody actually had any idea what the teenager had been through. The last witness of Lucas' traumas had died on the seaQuest, conveniently enough for the closemouthed teen. So Katie had threatened to tell a very interested audience of Dr. Westphalen and Captain Bridger all about the near-drowning in vivid detail if Lucas didn't agree to tell his counselor everything about the traumatic events of the last few weeks. Lucas had instantly agreed; therapy was preferable to facing the captain or doctor any day, especially with its confidentiality clause. "Have you talked to Bridger yet?"

"He's been awfully busy this week," Lucas replied.

"Really," Katie eyeballed Lucas critically. "And where does he think you are right now?"

"Sleeping," Lucas answered without missing a beat. He looked up at Katie suddenly. "You promised, you know."

"I know," Katie replied. She took a sip of her soda. "I'm not talking about that – I'm talking about everything else you two need to talk about."

Lucas sighed.

"Well, I'm not going to get involved," Katie patted Lucas on the shoulder as she stood up. "But let me know if you want to talk, not talk, or anything else."

"Okay," Lucas gazed up at Katie as she walked away. "Sure."

Lucas spent a couple of minutes contemplating his steak and coleslaw before Miguel slid into the seat Katie had vacated.

"Hey, Lucas," Miguel greeted the teen. "How's the mandatory R&R going?"

"Long," Lucas replied. "But I have wanted to tell you how glad I am that you were there to fight off the sharks."

"Heh," Miguel grinned in response to Lucas' impish smirk. "Anything's better than letting people get into your head, right?"

"Are you using that strategy on your shrink?" Lucas asked quietly, his smirk fading.

"No-o," Miguel answered, realizing that the conversation was turning serious. "Are you?"

"No," Lucas answered quickly. "But I'm deciding whether or not to go that route with the captain."

"Don't," Miguel answered firmly.

"I'm not even talking about-," Lucas began, but Miguel cut him off.

"Not about anything, Lucas," Miguel thought for a moment. "Have you even talked to Captain Bridger since we got off the seaQuest?"

"Yes," Lucas replied defensively.

"Since saying hello in the docking bay?"

Lucas' silence confirmed Miguel's suspicion.

"Lucas, you're going to need someone to talk to," Miguel was silent again. After a few long moments, he sighed deeply. "Look, you can talk to me. I think the captain deserves to hear more about what happened on the seaQuest, and I think it would be good for you to talk to him… but if it's easier, and if there's some stuff you don't want to tell him, then you can come to me. If you need anything at all."

Lucas nodded, silently wondering if Katie and Miguel realized that they'd had the same impulse.

"Want a beer?" Miguel asked with a rakish grin.

"Thanks anyway," Lucas met Miguel's smile with a weak one of his own, "but I don't need to be getting in trouble _or_ consuming depressants right now."

"Probably a good call, although not the one I've been making," Miguel raised an eyebrow at Lucas significantly.

"Oh," Lucas wondered what the appropriate response was. Honestly, he felt like any response to what had happened was appropriate. Whatever worked. But Miguel was clearly concerned enough to mention it, so… "Is it helping?"

"Okay, Lucas," Miguel's demeanor suddenly changed to a businesslike approach. "This is exactly what you want to avoid."

"What?" Lucas was deeply confused by the sudden turn in conversation.

"I'm trying to give you advice. You have spent four weeks dealing with everyone else's problems," Miguel stated firmly. "Here is where that stops. Now, don't rebound and fixate on yourself – you'll just get nervous and antsy, if I know you. But don't get dragged into anyone else's problems right now. You need some time spent _not _following a psycho guy around, trying to keep him sane."

Lucas stared at Miguel in shock.

"Too harsh?" Miguel was quiet for a minute. He ran a hand over his head wearily. "I watched you, Lucas, I _watched_ you being worn down by him, and by everyone around you. You weren't the one who did everything, like Hitchcock or Ford, but you were ground zero in another way. So now… you need to not be in the middle of things for a while."

"How do you suggest I do that?" Lucas asked, suddenly angry. "No matter what happens, I end up in the middle of it. I have to fix it, I have to explain it, I have to justify whatever I did wrong…"

"So you need to learn how to keep your head down," Miguel patted Lucas on the shoulder reassuringly. "You seem to be doing pretty well so far if you've managed to avoid Bridger all week."

"He's still looking for me," Lucas countered belligerently.

"You need to satisfy him for now," Miguel replied. "Chat with him. But then just be a normal member of the crew; do your job and get rest. Reboot yourself. I'll help you if I can."

"I'm not a normal member of the crew," Lucas bit out angrily. "I never will be."

"But you're a part of the crew, and that has become normal for all of us," Miguel responded matter-of-factly. "So yeah, you are, Lucas. We're used to your brand of genius and abnormality. It would be weird without you."

Lucas thought this over. "I can blend in?"

"Give it a shot," Miguel answered. "I think it would be good for you."

"So… you're not actually drinking?" Lucas followed up, still confused by their conversation.

"No, Lucas," Miguel laughed. "And that's exactly what I'm talking about – stop worrying and getting involved, OK? I'm just happy to be off the boat for a while. I never thought I'd say that, but it was pretty claustrophobic for a while there."

"Do you think a lot of people will transfer off of seaQuest?" Lucas asked.

"I won't be leaving," Miguel offered. "Tim won't be, Ford won't be, and Bridger certainly won't."

Lucas shrugged, and then he nodded. "I guess things will be pretty much the same once the seaQuest is refitted."

"Which will be weird," Miguel agreed with Lucas' unspoken sentiment. "And that will certainly be weird for any new crewmembers who don't realize that normal is weird for us."

"Oy," Lucas raked a hand through his hair. "I hadn't even thought about that."

"Then don't," Miguel grinned again. "Don't worry about it and just pretend everything is normal. And that will make you blend right in with all the other crazies."

"Sure," Lucas smiled in response to Miguel's contagious upbeat attitude. "I'll give it a shot, I guess."

&&&&&

Captain Bridger and Dr. Westphalen walked into the hotel restaurant together for a late dinner, and were surprised to see Lucas and Miguel thick as thieves over the remnants of their own dinners.

"Go talk to him," Kristin waved Bridger toward Lucas immediately. "I'll sit with O'Neill and Krieg."

"Thanks," Nathan nodded and headed over to talk to his youngest crewmember.

"Captain," Lucas jumped, startled when he realized it was Bridger approaching his table. "I, uh, was hungry and-,"

"Yeah, I understand," Bridger looked to Miguel. "Can I have a few minutes with Lucas?"

"Good luck," Ortiz breathed to Lucas as he slid past him to leave. "I'll be in my room tonight."

"I'll see you later," Lucas responded, resigning himself to having the conversation with Bridger much sooner than he'd expected.

&&&&&

Two hours later, Lucas knocked on Miguel's door. He knew the older crewmember was sharing a room with Tim O'Neill, but he'd passed Tim at the pub section of the restaurant and hoped to get a few minutes alone with Miguel to talk.

"Come in, Lucas," Miguel called, guessing correctly that the only person who would be knocking at this hour would be the teenager.

Lucas opened the door and was surprised to find Katie and Miguel sitting on opposite sides of a small coffee table, clearly pausing in the middle of an in-depth conversation.

"Hey, Lucas," Katie slid over on the floor to make room for the newcomer. "Good to see you."

"Yeah," Lucas paused in the doorway, wondering what he was walking in on. "Am I interrupting?"

"Only if you're not willing to tell us what went down between you and Bridger," Miguel replied with a grin. "We've been speculating on how he's going to handle getting the crew reoriented once the seaQuest is up and running again."

"Oh," Lucas stepped fully into the room and sat down next to Commander Hitchcock. "Well, we didn't talk about that specifically, but he did ask me what I thought about a few policy changes…"

Lucas was relieved to be able to hash out his recent conversation with the captain – without having to explain his reservations, questions, or worries. As Miguel and Katie gave voice to the very thoughts he'd had, he relaxed. He wasn't alone; it wasn't up to him; they'd adjust and adapt to their new way of seeing the world together.

Lucas just hoped it would look this hopeful when they all stepped aboard seaQuest for the first time after it had been refitted.

&&&&&

The End!!!

Thanks, everyone who has been reading and reviewing! You've been very supportive and patient, and I am now considering a sequel… we shall see! I hope you enjoyed the story (and the ending!), and I wish you all well!

Sincerely,

Hari


End file.
